


Veni Vidi Vicious

by Vaarin



Category: Pride and Prejudice (2005), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Angst and Drama, F/M, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 00:47:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 53,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20939510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaarin/pseuds/Vaarin
Summary: Viking era variation.How will Elizabeth manage when she is forced to wed the savage Viking Fenrir Darcyson and travel to a foreign land with pagan customs? A brutal era remembered for its violence, rapes, fierce warriors and heathen rituals.Warning: Not for the faint-hearted… Violence and rape although not described in detail.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a badass Darcy and the thought of writing a Viking era variation had been brewing in my mind, so I decided to combine the two ideas.  
I am Norwegian...  
I have tried to stay accurate to the era, without too much of the gory details. It was a time of great contradictions and I hope I have managed to show that without turning it into a history lesson...  
I have created a Pinterest page for visualisation. You may search for “Veni Vidi Vicious” by elinharaldsdatt if you are interested in seeing my inspiration. My choice for Darcy might surprise you...  
All the mistakes are my own. Hopefully, by the time my next story is finished, I will have a Beta to correct my grammar...

Prologue 

John came running into the house, bloodied and beaten, his clothes in rags.   
He closeted himself away with his father and uncle, shouting could be heard through the thick oak door by the women gathered around the hearth.

***

Elizabeth’s family were visiting her aunt and uncle at the outskirts of London. Trading goods before the winter set in while looking for spouses for their large brood of daughters.   
John was getting married soon and the lady’s mother was not inclined to have his five sisters under her daughter’s foot. 

Aunt Madeline patted her hand, reassuringly. 

“We will know soon enough, Elizabeth. Stop worrying your lip or you will draw blood.”

“I cannot, did you not see the state he was in? He is injured, his wounds need attention!”

“They must be minor, considering the haste he entered in. The blood might not be his, Elizabeth...” 

Elizabeth was a little mollified but not much. She had had the chance to get a good look at her brother John as he came storming into the house. Ghostly white, blood trickling down his face from a cut above his brow, his right eye had started to discolour and his clothes had been torn to such a degree that he had to clutch them to his person lest he would disgrace himself. No, Elizabeth was not convinced at all...

It took five hours before the Bennet patriarch, his brother Gardiner and the Bennet heir would emerge for a late supper.  
Grave and uninviting, they ate their meal in silence. Revealing nothing of what had transpired earlier that day nor what they had discussed for so long.  
John reluctantly let his mother and sisters tend the wound above his brow when he had finished eating but would not own to having any more injuries beneath his clothes, instead he got annoyed at their pampering.

“Will you not tell me what happened, what beasts that attacked a decent, peaceful man?” Elizabeth prodded her brother, eager to know what dangers lurked in the city and how to avoid them.

“You will know soon enough, my nosy sister. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Then who has, what are you not saying John? I know something terrible is going on, I have never seen you so pale before. Your eyes were black with fright...”

“Nothing, I said!” John's voice was hard and unyielding, making Elizabeth flinch away from the uncharacteristic anger displayed by her most beloved brother.

“We will have some visitors come morning. I suggest you look your best girls, especially you Jane.” Thomas Bennet eyed his daughter with what could only be called regret.   
The matriarch scoffed at his utterance.

“Jane always looks beautiful Thomas, what could possibly be done to enhance an angel?” 

Her mother shooed her five daughters to the bedroom they shared, at her aunt and uncles small cottage. Fretting loudly on what to wear and what elaborate braids could be added to their hair in anticipation of their visitors on the morrow. 

They had travelled light, their servants were left at Longbourn, to leave more room for their purchases but it left them with little to work within the way of adornments for exalted visitors.

Mrs Bennet chaffed at the insolence of not being appraised of whom they were expecting. A lord would be very convenient but a wealthy tradesman would not go amiss either, at least not for Elizabeth or Mary. Jane would be spared such an alliance, of course, having much better prospects for an advantageous marriage.

Elizabeth’s sense of foreboding kept her awake long past the twilight hours. ‘It could not be coincidental that her father had asked Jane to take special care of her appearance in deference of the visitors. What kind of man could he be contemplating? Whom could produce such solemnity? Perhaps he was not wealthy at all, perhaps he had traded her for something her father craved, but what? Elizabeth could not fathom what could take precedence over his daughters. Her father was indolent at best, not particularly interested in the running of Longbourn. Leaving the house to his wife and the land to his son as soon as he was old enough to shoulder the responsibility.   
John took on the duty with the gust of youth and had managed the land well as proof of his calm intellect and his natural-born leader skills.’

The sun dawned over the horizon and Elizabeth must have dozed off as she was awakened by the rooster, after what felt like a few minutes of sleep. Her mother was in a frenzy, believing that they all needed to be ready at the crack of dawn which made the waiting time even more onerous. It would be noon before any strangers crossed their threshold. 

Chapter I The Visitors 

The sun was at its highest peak when the beating of hooves could be heard in a distance. The ground vibrated as they drew nearer, revealing the large number of horses closing in.  
Elizabeth looked expectantly towards her brother, who had gathered his family in the courtyard to greet their guests. It surely must be time to divulge the purpose of their coming here.

“A sister will leave us today, I have arranged a marriage to an earl or a Jarl, as they call it.”

Elizabeth did not need to ask which sister and looked horrified at Jane, who stood serenely, looking at the cloud of dust that were approaching at an alarming speed. 

“Jane!” 

Elizabeth cried out and was at her sister's side within a blink of an eye, grabbing her hand to comfort her which left her back turned towards the visitors entering the courtyard. Elizabeth twirled to get a look at her sisters intended and almost fainted at the sight. 

‘Vikings! What could her brother been thinking? Offering his kind and loving sister to such a savage bunch, they were pagans for crying out loud.’   
Elizabeth faced her brother with a fierce and determined look but he turned his back to her, approached the frontman and offered him a civil, bordering on submissive welcome. 

The Viking alighted his horse and approached the Bennet’s.

‘He was the most handsome man Elizabeth had ever seen. Fair-haired, like rip rye, blowing in the autumn breeze. It was long and pulled back in a queue, the sides of his head were clean-shaven like his face. His chiselled chin and high cheekbones were striking, opposed to the rest of the lot who all sported massive beards.   
His most prominent feature were his eyes though, they were grey but had kindness and warmth shining through, giving him a boyish appearance.   
In fact, he did not seem intimidating at all,’ Elizabeth mused. ‘Perhaps the Vikings were not as bad as the rumours would have it? Gossip had a tendency to grow out of proportion when it had been passed through numerous mouths and spread like wildfire.  
Jane did not seem intimidated either and was gazing admiringly at the tall, blond guy. He presented himself as Carl Brageson, the chieftain of Lade and Herse to the Jarl of Nidaros.

Jane curtsied and were taking a step towards him when Carl called out to the twenty-odd Vikings and the one redheaded female they had brought. The visitors parted in the middle and the brawniest man Elizabeth had ever laid her eyes on, approached with a scowl on his face.   
He was as dark as his friend was fair. Black hair, styled as his friend's but his queue reached the lining of his leather tied up breeches. His face was covered in a massive black beard, his piercing blue eyes were half-hidden behind bushy eyebrows and his mouth was set in a grim line. He had painted stripes down his cheeks, probably sot, Elizabeth guessed. 

“Fenrir Darcyson the Wolf, Jarl of Nidaros, appointed by the King of Norway, Harald Hairfair,” Carl proudly presented his friend to his incredulous audience. 

Elizabeth thought of the saga of David and Goliath. Goliath must have come but she found comfort in the fact that David had been the victorious one in their battle.  
One look at her brother belied her ruminations. He looked utterly defeated and strangely shamed-faced, as he should be if this monstrosity of man were meant to be her delicate sister’s husband.

The Vikings exchanged some words in between them but Elizabeth had never heard any other language than the one she spoke herself and did not understand a word.

The redheaded lady came up to Jane and stilled behind her, only to remove the braids from the top of Jane’s head. She loosened the braids and let Jane’s beautiful tresses fall freely down her back.  
Goliath, as Elizabeth had named him privately in her mind, looked displeased. Elizabeth thought that might be a good sign. Perhaps all were not lost, could the troll prefer another troll, to her gorgeous sister? The touch of a smile grazed Elizabeth’s face, as she scrutinised the giant.

“Too short!” Goliath had a deep baritone voice that carried over the courtyard. 

‘He speaks English’, Elizabeth mused surprised. A short dispute erupted between Goliath and Carl. Speaking in the foreign language. Goliath looked to her brother and sneered.

“Sordinn!” 

Goliath was obviously insulting her brother but it mattered little as no one could understand what he said, well at least none of the Anglo-Saxons. The Viking warriors pointed at her brother, sneering with disgust.   
The entire affair seemed sort of ridiculous to Elizabeth, her amusement was however short-lived. Goliath flicked his head and a moment later the redhead had turned to Elizabeth and unfastened the ribbon she had tied around her bun. Her curly tresses fell to the back of her knees. Goliath’s pale blue eyes locked with Elizabeth’s, dagger shooting emerald green ones. Elizabeth put her hands to her hips and addressed the red-haired lady.

“How dear you touch my hair without my permission?” It dawned on Elizabeth that the lady might not understand a word she was saying but she was surprised when she answered fluently with a Scottish burr.

“I only followed the orders from my Jarl, my lady.” She curtsied and went to stand on Goliath’s left side. A discussion ensued between the Chieftain and the Jarl. Carl Brageson tossed his hands in the air, obviously defeated and addressed John.

“He will have the dark one.” 

Elizabeth’s mind started spinning, trying to comprehend what was happening. The regret that showed on her brother’s face was sinking in though. 

“I am sorry Elizabeth, perhaps it is the better choice. You have always had more mettle than your other sisters. I am convinced you will do well, whatever you put your mind too.”

Elizabeth’s gaze shifted to her father, pleading for aid. He gave her resigned shrug of the shoulders, he was obviously not coming to her aid. The hold the Viking Jarl had on her family must be substantial, to make her father sacrifice his favourite daughter. 

The aid came from the least likely source as Jane stepped forward. 

“She is not going anywhere without me, where Elizabeth go, I go with her. I will be quite content working as her maid if it is necessary.” Elizabeth clutched her sister's hand, that she had held in an iron grip the entire interlude.

“No, Jane! Save yourself, I will be well. I promise.”

“Of course, you will. I will make sure of that.” 

Another short conference ensued in a foreign language and Carl approached her father.

“I will take the fair one, it will be a double wedding when we have finished the negotiations of dowry and bride-price.” 

Thomas Bennet nodded solemnly.

“I have no dowry”, Elizabeth interjected. Happy to throw a contradicting argument into the fray.

“Your dowry was paid by your brother yesterday.”

Fanny Bennet, who had remained mute through the ordeal, regained her speech and ushered the two leading Vikings inside to offer food and drink. 

Where the Jarl went, the redhead followed but the rest of the warriors declined and stood on guard around her uncle’s little cottage. Convenient as the cottage was filled to the brim as it was.  
Elizabeth mindlessly fulfilled her duties and served the drinks with Jane while her younger sisters put the food on the table. Her mother’s diminutive form sat next to the Jarl, chatting on with a frown between her brows. The Jarl mirrored the expression and it was repeated once more by the redhead, plastered at his side. Elizabeth sat down at her father’s side, laying a comforting hand on his wrinkled fist.

“Who would have thought you would carry so light a carriage home from a trip to London father. The horses will be delighted.” 

“Do not mollify me in this Elizabeth, I know I have failed you, child. When the Jarl's ship sails from the Anglo-Saxon shore, we will never lei eyes on each other again Elizabeth but you must know that I would never have let you go, if there were another way out of this quagmire...”

“I know father.”

The meal continued mostly in silence. Elizabeth was glad that her hair was loose, bending her head to hide behind the curtain of chestnut curls. Enabling her to scrutinise her surroundings clandestinely.   
It had not escaped her that her brother had not looked at her once since they last exchanged words in the courtyard and she was beginning to understand that it was him the Vikings had a hold on that gave her father no choice but to consent to the marriage of his daughters.   
Reminded of her sister’s joint peril, made her look up to gauche the condition of her sister’s sensibilities and were rather surprised at what she witnessed. Jane was speaking amicably, in hushed tones with her handsome husband to be. She even looked a little infatuated with a slight blush upon her cheeks. Elizabeth sighed, ‘if Jane could find contentment, she would be happy as well. Her own intended paid her little to no attention which suited Elizabeth perfectly. Whenever she glanced in his direction, he never met her eyes, the redhead seemed to pay her significantly more attention though.   
Elizabeth wondered what was her role in hierarchy, perhaps his sister but that thought were swiftly abandoned. It looked like she had her hand on the Jarl's thigh, hardly a sisterly conduct... 

Elizabeth startled out of her reverie by a chair, scraping abruptly over the stone floors. She was grabbed by her hand and pulled up from her chair and out the door before she knew what was happening. Outside, the Viking warriors were languishing about and new insults were hurled their way. Elizabeth pretended she did not understand they were insulting her and smiled brilliantly to annoy rather than to please. 

John kept pacing before her, dragging his hands through his hair, occasionally glancing pleadingly at her. Elizabeth watched but made no attempt of conversation.   
At last, he stopped his pacing, grabbed Elizabeth’s hands and fell on his knees. Hiding his face in her skirt, he chanted.   
“Please forgive me, please forgive me, please forgive me...” Elizabeth stroked his hair, by the time a few minutes had passed, his sobbing quieted and he rose slowly to his feet.  
Elizabeth strengthened her hold on his hands and made sure she had contact with his eyes.

“I know you would have rescued us from our fate if you had had the slightest possibility for success. Do not trouble yourself for our sake, John. Jane is halfway in love already and you know I am not made for misery. I absolutely refuse the notion, regardless of what the future holds.   
I will find comfort in the ridiculous and contentment from the most unlikely of sources.” 

John enfolded her in a tight embrace. Elizabeth could feel him trembling beneath her hands. 

“Must the lord have mercy on you Elizabeth.” 

John wandered out of the yard, the Vikings let him go without importuning him any further. His shoulders slouched and his head held down, even the Vikings seemed to have the decency to leave a beaten man in peace. Elizabeth folded her arms on her chest and glared at the uninvited guests, daring anyone to leave her brother alone. 

When John was out of sight, she turned to enter the cottage but a big bulk of man was efficiently blocking her entrance. His shadow standing behind him as the door frame would not allow anyone at his side. For some strange reason, the redhead's presence was starting to grate on Elizabeth’s frazzled nerves. She stood her ground, glaring at Fenrir Darcyson, the wolf and Jarl of Nidaros.

“Your eyes are beautiful, especially when they are glaring at me....   
Your brother made his own choice, sacrificing you and evidently your sister as well, to secure his own comfort.”

“Get out of my way!” Elizabeth was not going to listen to the savage defaming her beloved brother but the giant piece of man-flesh did not budge.

“Very well...” Elizabeth turned on her heel and set a brisk pace towards the wilderness in the back. Thankfully, the Viking did not follow.

Elizabeth staid out of sight until their guests had departed. Entering the cottage, her mother was in a flutter and seemed rather content with her daughters' matches.   
She had questioned the respective grooms thoroughly and were not at all disheartened by their answers. Both were rich and prosperous although the Jarl had a horse-head on the chieftain both in land and wealth.   
Elizabeth could not help herself and listened intently to her mother’s exuberant rantings of large houses and gold and silver treasures. She continued with praising Caroline Bragesdottir, for her ladylike manners and fine clothing but then again, she was half Scottish. 

“Is she related to Carl?” Elizabeth found herself asking, against her better judgement. 

“Yes, his half-sister I believe.” Fanny continued in a low whisper. “I think she might have been born on the wrong side of the blanket. She called herself the Jarl’s frille, whatever that is...”

“Perhaps, it is a kind of housemaid? She certainly takes prodigiously good care of him, she did not leave his side all evening.”

“Yes, I noticed as well Elizabeth. What could she mean by that?” 

“She is probably shy around strangers.” 

You could always count on Jane to find a benign but plausible reason for almost any conundrum, Elizabeth thought wryly. She was not at all that certain that the lady was all benevolence but the thought of another human being in the household that spoke her language, were not unwelcome.

***

Tucking in beside her sisters at night, Elizabeth thoughts went to the rapidity her life had changed in the course of a day.   
From free and happy to shackled to a savage pagan and bound for a distant shore where she had no idea what was waiting for her. A small part of her was thrilled by the thought but mostly she was dreading the unknown. Sailing on a ship across the vast ocean, not seeing land for days or perhaps weeks?   
Elizabeth had no notion of how long the journey would take. ‘She must remember to ask someone on the morrow.’  
Her thoughts ventured to Jane, at least her fiancé seemed pleasant, her own seemed anything but...   
Perhaps he just wanted an Anglo-Saxon wife for a kind of trophy, a sign of their successful raid on Anglo-Saxon soil. Not really interested in being much in her company...’  
Elizabeth found the thought comforting, it was not as he had showed any interest in anything but her hair. Elizabeth felt the unpleasantness of remembering his complement of her eyes, most acutely. Perhaps green eyes were uncommon in their country... Elizabeth settled for that solution. She fell asleep, not owning to the hypocrisy in believing Jane was the one who sought to find good in everything. 

The Vikings were back within the crack of dawn the next day. They were already settled around the table when Elizabeth left the chamber she had slept in.  
She curtsied to the room in general but spoke not a word before venturing out the door for her morning constitutional.   
Caroline had not been amongst the men inside but Elizabeth found her loitering around outside with the Viking warriors. Elizabeth approached her, as she had some questions she would like to have an answer to. 

“Good morning miss Bragesdottir. I wondered if you might be amenable to answer some questions I have?” Caroline curtsied, albeit stiffly and inclined her head in acquiescence. 

“Is it a long sea journey to Nidaros?” Caroline smirked for reasons unknown to Elizabeth. 

“It is not. Less than a fortnight, I should say. It depends on the wind of course.”   
Caroline’s condescending tone grated on Elizabeth but she had her mindset on making the best of it and alienating the one English speaking woman on her journey was not on her agenda. 

“What does it mean to be a frille? We do not use that term here, is it perhaps a housekeeper?” Caroline’s soft laughter made Elizabeth feel utterly stupid. 

“No, I am the Jarl’s lover. Kind of like a second wife.” 

Elizabeth was unsuccessful in stifling her gasp.

“Out of wedlock?” She whispered incredulously.

“Yes, of course. I am a bastard, he could not marry me, regardless of how much he wanted to...” 

The last statement was left hanging in the air as Elizabeth gave a shallow curtsy before heading towards the trees that would hide her from the scrutiny of any onlookers.

She stamped further though, beyond the trees and down towards the Thames. She followed the rivers curvy eastern direction.   
‘What had she let herself in for? Right, she had not let on anything at all. It had been forced upon her by no doing of her own. Her resentment towards her brother and father increased until she realised that if the Jarl had a lover, he would be more inclined to leave her alone. Settling on her minuscule role in the marriage as a sort of pretty ornament and a marriage in name only, she turned back home. It was not as she was the sinner and would burn in the eternal flame.   
If the Jarl liked it hot, it had nothing to do with her.’

The Vikings had left when she was back at her aunt’s and uncle’s. Her mother was frantic and delivered a prompt scolding for disappearing when she was needed at home. She was told under no uncertain terms that her morning stroll would be curtailed the next morning as they were off to the city to purchase food for the feast they were having on Friday. 

“Why are we having a feast on Friday?” Mary inquired. 

“To celebrate the weddings of course. It will be held at the long-house of the new Viking settlement but we must provide with all sorts of meat, bread, fruit and vegetables, not to forget an ungodly amount of honey.”

“Honey? Whatever for?” Mary was the inquisitive one in the family.

“Apparently, they must have mead, which is a kind of ale, sweetened with honey and enough to last the newly wedded couples from one full moon to the next.”

“A whole moon of honey,” Lydia giggled and Kitty was as always, ready to follow up.

“A honey moon,” she giggled back and even Elizabeth chuckled a bit at their silliness. 

“We need a goat as well, an alive one mind you. Whatever for is beyond me but then again, most of the Vikings traditions are. They had some peculiar requests. John will be riding at breakneck speed to retrieve old grandfather Bennet’s sword. It is an old nasty monstrosity, I will be happy to see it go.”

“Fabulous,” Elizabeth cried. “I will be slaughtered on my wedding day!”

“Do not be ridiculous Elizabeth. Nobody slaughters their wife on their wedding day, why make all the troubles of preparing for the ceremony and for three whole days at an end, no less. It is just a ritual of some sort. It is thrust into the central pillar of the house for good luck or fertility or some other nonsense.   
Who would have thought these savages so hysterically superstitious. Caroline told me that they cut the nails on their dead. To prevent some sort of sea monster building a ship and sail giants onto their shore. Utter rubbish if you ask me but I did not tell her that, of course. I have tried to be civil for the sake of our new family connections. No other Vikings nor the horrible Highlanders will dare to attack the mother of the famous Wolf slayer.”

“Your imagination must be running away with you mother. By the bye, I figured out what it meant to be a frille. She is the Jarl’s lover.”

Elizabeth let that shocking titbit, hang in the air and went to help her aunt prepare the meal.

Elizabeth fumed as she peeled vegetables for their soup. ‘She had hoped to make a friend of Caroline but that was not going to happen with the live-in-brothel.’


	2. The Wedding

Chapter II The Wedding

Friday came exceedingly fast for Elizabeth’s peace of mind. She firstly accounted it to the frenzied trading and cooking but secondly, she acknowledged that she was dreading to uproot and leave for the unknown. 

Jane and Elizabeth were groomed with elaborate braids in their hair and their best gowns.   
New ones had been out of the question as there were just not enough time to make them.   
They arrived at the settlement which contained one very longhouse and a variety of other smaller houses surrounding it.   
Elizabeth and Jane were immediately separated from the rest by an entourage of females. They were lead into separate rooms with an enormous wooden bathtub, situated in the middle. One of the ladies asked Caroline something who turned to Elizabeth. 

“Where is your krans?”

“My krans? I have no idea what you are talking about. I have never heard of it.”

“The krans is a circlet that is worn on your head as a token of your virginity, mayhap you do not have one...” 

Elizabeth did not appreciate the underlying insinuation but decided not to answer as whatever her reply might be, it could be interpreted wrong.

“We will use the ribbon in your hair. You must save it and give it to your daughter when she is ready to marry.” 

The ladies started tugging at her clothes and an indignant Elizabeth protested even louder, she had bathed...  
Caroline wrinkled her nose as she sniffed at her, making Elizabeth feeble objections mute. Elizabeth had not claimed that the bath had been accomplished today or even this week...

Elizabeth was stripped naked, the rest of her clothes was thrown in the hearth, despite Elizabeth vehement objections.   
Caroline explained that the clothes were discarded as a symbol of her leaving her old life and maidenhood behind.   
Elizabeth looked longingly at the embers of her favourite gown that had turned to ashes in front of her eyes.   
She entered the tub and the ladies washed her hair and body while continuing to slip heated stones from the hearth into the water, making it steam and sizzle. Elizabeth was quite certain that the one that hit her thigh directly, before the water had cooled it a bit, was added by the frille of the ladies...  
Sufficiently cleaned, she was aided out of the water, only to be beaten over the back by birch branches. Although it stung, it did not hurt as much as Elizabeth had dreaded. Showing weakness did not seem like a particularly good idea at the moment, so Elizabeth bit her lip and endured. 

When the ladies considered her amply beaten, she was lead to a new tub and quickly ducked under the freezing water. Elizabeth sputtered when they released her and she did not waste any time getting up and out. 

The remaining ritual proceeded in a much more pleasant manner. The white chemise was made of an exquisite material, so soft it felt like wearing a cloud. A light blue overdress was added, it had a darker blue hem and an apron in dark blue with light blue embroidery was the last of her garments. Heavy golden brooches were fastened to the gown with several beaded chains in between, an abundance of necklaces adorned her neck but the crown was the masterpiece. Made of silver, ladled with crystals and woven ribbons attached at the back in the same blues and white as her dress. Her intricate braids was long gone and her hair flowed freely down to her knees with no further adornment than the ribbons from the crown. Elizabeth felt magnificent and entered the courtyard with her head held high.

The bride and groom met in the middle of a stone circle. Elizabeth handed the ancient sword of grandfather Bennet to the Jarl and he handed her his, in return.   
It was much later that Elizabeth was told the story of how he went into his ancestors grave to retrieve the sword which Elizabeth was glad. She might have dropped it in disgust had she known.   
Elizabeth had been handed a ring and an armband, that she was obliged to give her husband.

‘The vows sounded lovely in the rather pleasant voice of her betrothed, it might have been even more pleasant if she had understood a word he said but perhaps not... The officiator, was unknown to Elizabeth, both in name and occupation. It dawned on her that he was not a priest of the church. Perhaps the marriage were not legit?’ The officiator translated into to English what Elizabeth had not understood. 

“He weds you to honour you and to be the housewife of Nidaros, to hold the lock and keys, to half the bed under one blanket and one sheet.”

Elizabeth kept her vows short and very close the ones her aunt and uncle had exchanged when they got married, ten odd years ago.   
A new ring adorned her finger and a thick gold bracelet on her arm that had her attention when the groom and most of the wedding party suddenly run like crazy towards the largest house.   
Elizabeth was too stunned to move, as were the rest of her family and the rambunctious gang were safely ensconced inside by the time they reached the threshold. 

“Why were they running?” Elizabeth looked at Jane for answers. 

“It is customary for the family that enters last, either of the groom or the bride, to serve the ale for the evening. With this thirsty bunch, it will be an onerous task, I am sure.”

Everyone was let in when they reached the door until it was Elizabeth’s time to cross the threshold. Her feet left the ground before she knew what was going on. Casually hanging over the shoulder of the wolf she entered her wedding celebration with a lot less elegance than she had expected.   
Dumped unceremoniously into a chair at the head of the table with her husband at her side, the Vikings cheered and clinked their goblets together, wishing the brides and grooms all kinds of mischief.   
The Jarl stood up and drove the sword Elizabeth had gifted him, halfway into the central pillar of the house and a deafening amount of cheering and shouting erupted. Next, he thrust his hammer between Elizabeth thighs. 

Bring the Hammer the bride to bless:  
On the maiden's lap lay ye Mjolnir;  
In Vor's name [Frigga] then our wedlock hallow!

The tables were groaning under the weight of the food that were stacked upon them. Her bath had made her hungry and Elizabeth tucked in with gusto. 

Her goblet seemed to be missing but before she had time to call for one, a horn with honey-sweetened ale was thrust in her face by the giant beside her. He consecrated it to Thórr, raised a toast to Odin and Elizabeth toasted Freyja.   
She sipped the sweet liquid carefully and when she handed it back, the Jarl put it to his mouth and emptied it in large gulps.   
The horn was immediately refilled though and repeatedly thrust in Elizabeth's face. She soon learned that it was better to pretend drinking when polite refusals were completely disregarded.   
She also noticed that when she took a sip, her husband downed the rest and the thought of drinking him under the table, pre-wedding night, had its merits...

The giant was on to her though and whispered in her ear that if she continued her dainty sips he would turn the tables on her and make her down the entire horn, in any fashion he deemed necessary.   
Elizabeth blushed at being found out and hoped he had not somehow read the rest of her thoughts while blushing profusely.   
The Jarl must have found her heightened colour most becoming as she in the next moment was situated in his lap. He grazed her lips with his thumb before his mouth descended on hers.   
Elizabeth surprise and outrage of this very public display of affection, accidentally bit the Jarl’s lip which only made him groan and deepened the kiss with an added tongue dipping into her mouth.

It was not entirely unpleasant, Elizabeth thought as frizzles shot up and down her spine. She squinted her eyes that had automatically closed on impact, to gauche the attention of the audience. Looking over her husband’s broad shoulder, his frille was giving her the evil eye but none of the others in her vision seemed to be particularly shocked by their behaviour. They seemed utterly nonchalant by the display, to Elizabeth’s profound relief. 

In a moment of revengefulness and a tiny bit of insanity, Elizabeth locked eyes with Caroline and run her fingers over her husband’s hair. Caroline’s eyes transformed into tiny slits and Elizabeth tugged her husband’s queue, forcing him to release her mouth so she could laugh freely.   
Elizabeth reluctantly admitted to herself that the copious amounts of honey-ale had went to her head and she was feeling a little tipsy.

“Laughing at me wife?” The husband was unamused by her antics.

“Nooo! I am laughing at your live-in-brothel, giving me the evil eye.” 

Elizabeth giggled at her presumed insult and fully expected a quick return to her own chair. Instead, her husband called a guard and whispered a few pointed words in his ear.   
The next thing she saw was the guard grabbing the frille by the elbow and hustling her to the other side of the room. Elizabeth thought the banishment a proper penance for leaving her with a burn-mark on her thigh and thought no more of it. Her husband was squirming underneath her as she had forgot to let go of his hair.

“Will you let go of my hair, I am a little tender-headed.” That thought provoked gales of laughter from Elizabeth. 

“Are you saying that a hardened warrior such as yourself, can be outmanoeuvred by a tug on the hair?” Her sport on his behalf was not well received and she felt him gather a significant amount of her hair around his fist. Her head was tugged backwards while her neck was attacked by kisses and nibbles.   
The onslaught had the opposite effect to the purpose as Elizabeth was not tender-headed but extremely ticklish and her laughter were not dying out.

A sharp cough from behind her husband’s back sobered Elizabeth’s mirth as she was looking at her father’s displeased countenance. 

“I beg your pardon father,” Elizabeth hastened to say.

“Your husband knows no better but I expect more from you Elizabeth. Do not forget your heritage when you set sail for foreign waters. It is not necessary to stoop to their level. Perhaps you can even teach this savage a little manners before you come visit with a brood of puppies, hm?” 

Elizabeth felt the chastisement deeply and tried to scramble off her husband’s lap which made the Jarl tighten his grip.

“My mother was English,” the pleasant voice announced. “I am quite familiar with English customs. In fact, my uncle is the Earl of Matlock. If I disregard propriety, it is by choice, not lack of knowledge.” Her father bowed and moved away to Elizabeth’s relief, the ambience had gotten uncomfortably strained.

“Byrði betri  
berr-at maðr brautu at  
en sé mannvit mikit;  
vegnest verra  
vegr-a hann velli at  
en sé ofdrykkja öls.

Er-a svá gótt  
sem gótt kveða  
öl alda sona,  
því at færa veit,  
er fleira drekkr  
síns til geðs gumi.

“What does it mean?”

“It means that you can carry no better burden up the hill than a lot of sense, you do not get far with little sense or too much ale. Ale is not as good as they say for mankind, the more you drink the less sense your head contain. It is from the High Speech or Hávamál, as we call it... ” Elizabeth felt the chastisement keenly and decided that water would be extinguishing her thirst from now on. 

“Is your mother at Nidaros?”

“No. She died twelve years ago.”

“I am so sorry.” He must have been a child, she thought. 

“The death of a mother is the worst that can happen to a son.” He spoke dispassionately, belying his words.

“Do you have any other family living with you?”

“Yes, my sister Gjendine and my fathers frille Ragnhild lives with me. The latter has run my house until now, it will be your responsibility when we return.”

“How long will the feast last?” Elizabeth was not trying to seem eager for the feast to end and kept her voice in a neutral tone.

“Three days.” 

Elizabeth had meant this evening’s feast but her curiosity won out.

“Three days! But why?”

“After three days the food and guests starts to smell.”

“Oh...” Elizabeth slipped of her husband’s lap and grabbed some bread that she chewed thoughtfully. 

‘Did the Vikings never sleep? She was wearied to the bone and fought of yawn after yawn.’ Minutes later her eyes closed and her head slid to her husband’s shoulder. Sleeping peacefully through the ruckus surrounding her. She was shaken awake, what felt like minutes but were, in fact, hours later. 

“It is time to retire Elizabeth. Although, you seem to have retired already.” 

Her husband chuckled at her lack of stamina. She took his arm and to her surprise, they were followed by four men and four women with torches, out of the long-house and towards a much smaller one, at the opposite end of the yard.   
The men were her brother, Carl Brageson and two others she did not know.   
The women that followed included Jane, Caroline and two of the ladies that had helped her bath and prepare for the wedding.   
Elizabeth was glad it was at least four familiar faces, although she would not have minded if Caroline’s banishment had lasted a little longer.

They entered the small, two-story building and when the last person had entered, her husband slammed the door, forcefully three times.   
Elizabeth startled at the loud bangs and worried that the door would not hold up at the hard treatment it was getting. It had a large bolt and to Elizabeth’s surprise, the Jarl pulled the bolt with the whole entourage, still inside. 

They climbed the stairs to the loft who contained a large bed with a chair on either side. The bed, floors and chairs were covered in flowers which Elizabeth thought was romantic but the Jarl thought annoying as he brushed them away from his chair before sitting down to pull off his boots.

Elizabeth felt uncertainty creep into her mind and raised her chin and squared her shoulders. Reluctant to show any form of weakness before husband and guests. The ladies started to undress her while the men performed the same service for her husband. Elizabeth trepidation grew by each item that were removed from her person.  
‘They could not possibly mean to undress her in the company of men? Surely they would stop at her chemise? No!’

Elizabeth took the matter in her own hands and tugged her chemise out of Caroline’s clawing hands and dived under the covers before anyone had the mind to protest.   
The entourage laughed at her antics, including her groom who had no qualms of being stripped stark naked in front of all and sundry.   
He had black drawings from his fingertips to his neck on each arm, men, women and animals with intricate patterns in between. On his chest was the large head of a snarling wolf, his back she could not see... 

Poor Jane had reached the limit of her sensibilities and bolted from the room.   
Elizabeth pleaded with Carl to follow her sister, she would not like her to be outside, defenceless against the drunken revellers.  
Unfortunately, the open door they left behind, were obviously taken for an invitation to enter and the small chamber was soon packed with curious onlookers of the fair Norse style.   
Elizabeth closed her eyes in utter mortification as the bed sunk under the weight of her groom.   
Surely, the audience would leave now that they shared the bed. Elizabeth sent a fervent prayer to the heavens above. Including the possibility that the marriage was not a legit one. At least, she had pledged her troth before God, even if her husband had not.

Her chemise was ripped in half, as her husband stilled above her.

“What is this?” The groom was scowling at her, pointing at the burn on her thigh.

“It is nothing, just a burn from the heated stones that were thrown into the bath.” Elizabeth tried to seem as nonchalant as possible, discussing her bared person in a crowded room.

“Who?” The Jarl did not address her but one of the ladies who had aided her bath. The perpetrator was pointed out and she retaliated by egging the crowd with words Elizabeth had never heard and could not understand. 

“Thviet, kunta, munuth,” were the words Elizabeth could discern from the loud crowd’s shouting. 

She did not know that her groom was as displeased with the turn of events as she was. As a private person, the Jarl loathed to have his personal affairs aired in public, making him jump to act in a desperation that would end the torment sooner, if not wiser.

Fenris Darcyson entered his bride without any further ado and brought himself to a rather swift completion while his bride had clasped her hands to her face, biting her lip until she drew blood.   
The only sound she emitted were tiny gasps for air.   
It was over in a matter of minutes, the crowd filed out of the room. The Jarl left the bed to usher everybody out, with every intention of bolting the door behind the last guest.   
As the blanket was removed a lady’s gasp was heard, although it did not come from Elizabeth who was still hiding behind her hands, despite her body being exposed. A fervent whisper to her husband in the foreign language sounded like a scolding to Elizabeth’s ears but who was she to know.

Elizabeth heard the bolt sliding into locked position and her husband re-entered the loft. 

“It seems that you may have had a strong maidenhead, my dear, let me clean you.”

Elizabeth scooted up to the carved headboard, out of her husband’s reach.

“No! I thank you but I will clean myself.” She looked down at the mattress and the amount of blood made eyes grow wide.

“Is this normal?” She asked her husband’s. 

“It depends... Are you having your monthly bleeding?”

“No, I do not.” Elizabeth pulled the two remaining halves of her chemise together at the front and left the bed.   
A dull pain shot through her from her pelvis towards her back but she had no intention of showing her husband her discomfort. 

A bowl of water and a cloth had been left on the chair and Elizabeth started the gruelling task of washing the blood and her husband’s seed, off her body, using languid strokes as the coldness numbed the pain.   
The Jarl turned on his side, unperturbed by his wife’s peril or so she thought, as she could not see the shame clouding his handsome features.  
His breath eventually evened out and a snore that could have awakened the dead emanated from his mouth. 

Elizabeth tossed and turned through the night, falling into a restless sleep by the time the earliest rays of sun, grazed their bed. She awoke to the silent whisper:

Eyvitar firna  
er maðr annan skal,  
þess er um margan gengr guma;  
heimska ór horskum  
gerir hölða sonu  
sá inn máttki munr.

A long-time would pass before Elizabeth knew the translation of this verse from Hávamál.

(Never a whit should one blame another  
for a folly which many befalls;  
the might of love makes sons of men  
into fools who once were wise.)

Elizabeth stretched and bared her chest as the torn chemise had fallen under her arms. Fretting about her attire, she noticed that a fresh set of clothes had been lain out on her chair.   
Thankful she slipped into a new red chemise and a red linen overdress that was adorned with silver embroidery on the chest and the hem.   
A beautiful woven belt to tie around her waist and the big brooches and chains from the previous evening lei there as well.   
Elizabeth donned her attire and combed her hair. The crown was not there though, neither were any ribbons for her hair which left her with no choice but to let her long hair flow.   
The Jarl had waited patiently for her to finish and guided her out the door and into the bathhouse where several of the Viking women were waiting for her.

“You must braid your hair now that you have become a wife, only virgins are allowed to wear it down,” the Jarl explained. 

“I thought that you needed some help with that,” he said as an explanation of sorts.

“I can manage myself if I have ribbons or pins to fasten it with but this is fine for now, I do not want to offend anyone who has put in an effort.”

Elaborately styled in beautiful braids and adorned with a large silver hairpin and several smaller hair-beads, Elizabeth walked to the long-house as closely to what was her natural gait if not exactly pain-free. The soreness still lingered, as a reminder of her humiliation. 

The tables were set for breaking their fast and many of the guests were tucking in heartily of the splendour on offer.  
Elizabeth ate silently, observing her surroundings. She almost did not recognise Caroline, as her beautiful red hair had been cut short to above her shoulders. She was eating with her head bowed and her fellow tablemates seemed to poke fun at her. The Jarl followed her gaze.

“She has been punished for her negligence if it was negligent and not deliberate that she hurt you.” Elizabeth was stunned speechless. A mishap with a stone was punished but her husband maiming her was obviously nothing. 

“Why cut her hair?”

“It is a sign of her degradation into a thrall.”

“Thrall?”

“It means slave.” 

“She has been degraded from lover to slave?”

“She might still have been my lover but her children would not be acknowledged and could not inherit. She also loses her right to live in the main house. She will move to the accommodations of the slaves, as soon as we are home. She has never been my lover in deed though, I took her on to sort out some trouble.”

“Correct me if I am wrong here but are you saying that being your wife does not even mean I will be the mother of your heir. Any trollop that graze your bed may have that honour?”

“Not the thralls, she would have to have the status of a frille. I may choose to set a thrall child free and acknowledge it as my own but only if I have the inclination.”

“Really! So what, may I ask, is the purpose of marrying at all? I admit that the constitution does seem to lack merit.” The Jarl eyed her with a deep frown between his brows.

“You will have the keys to everything in my home, run my house and be my second in command. When I am away, all decisions will be made by you.”

“What about love?” Elizabeth almost chocked on the words. Not that she had even contemplated love in the context of the Jarl but her childhood fancies were still alive in her dreams and in her imagination. 

“A man does not love, it is unmanly. To be loved gives credit to our honour though. I do not imply that you love me at this point but I expect your love to grow with time...”

Elizabeth had never heard such arrogant, conceited, haughty and narcissistic, egocentricity in her entire life. In fact, if she had been asked to conjecture something up, she would not have managed to concoct anything close the pile of rubbish she had just been served on a silver platter.

“Indeed,” she managed to utter as the gap between her world's Christianity and the Jarl’s pagan ways, seemed to grow into an insurmountable void.

At the end of the meal, a tray with silver and gold coins were placed in front of her.

“What is this?”

“It is your morning gift and mundr, the bride price.”

“Should it not been set before my father?”

“No, it is yours, as would your dowry have been if it had been of a more concrete nature. The abstract value of your brother’s honour is more difficult to evaluate. You have before you, what I deem a fair price for an English squire’s son. I understand that while Longbourn is land-rich it is poorly managed and thereby wealth-poor.”

“What do my brother’s honour have to do with it? He has his honour intact, sitting at this table eating with the rest of us.”

“He has not, I took it. He is an unmanly outcast. He is a Sordinn.” 

Elizabeth gave up on understanding all the new nonsense she was being fed. None of it made any sense and she refused to dwell on it.

“Come Elizabeth, we are having a blót, to secure our felicity and fertility.”

Elizabeth thought wryly that the fertility could matter but little as he obviously had plenty of options for procreation. 

In the courtyard, the first creature she noticed was the goat that she had purchased on a nearby estate.   
She turned away when the throat was sliced and the blood pouring out, were gathered in a wooden pail.   
To Thórr the god of the weather, the officiator announced.   
A sow was brought in next and suffered the same fate as the goat. The officiator announced the sow was offered to Freyja, the goddess of fertility. 

At last, a horse was brought to the hov. Elizabeth cringed at the grotesque fate that awaited the beautiful animal. She closed her eyes until the horse lay still on the ground. Which turned out to be too soon, as a man cut off the horse’s manhood, added onions and herbs before he wrapped it in linen. 

“I am not eating that.”

“Of course not. It is for the alveblót.” 

The package was brought to the altar, which the Vikings called Hőgr, and left in its macabre state, together with the bowl of blood. 

Elizabeth swallowed the bile that was rising in her throat while praying fervently that her role in the beastly slaughter had not earned her a spot in the eternal flame. She guessed the blót would not have happened if she had not married the Jarl nor her sister the Chieftain. 

She looked at her brother, who stood green-faced on the outskirts of the yard. Jane was nowhere to be seen and neither was her husband. ‘Good,’ Elizabeth thought. Hopefully, he was tending her sister. 

Next, the gođi took fir-twigs, dipped them in the blood and sprinkled the newlyweds and guests with the blood.

***

Their guests had worked up an appetite, they all gathered around the table for another round of food, despite the fact they had left it a couple of hours ago. Elizabeth had no stomach for the offerings. 

“There will be fresh goat, sow and horse in a few hours. Are you saving for the fresh produced, it will be a while before it is ready?” Elizabeth shook her head in denial. 

“You need to eat, you are all skin bones. It would be unseemly for my wife to wither away.”

“Thank you for your consideration but I am not hungry.” 

“My mother was delicate, like you.”

“She was?”

“Yes, I always thought that it contributed to her early death, somehow. She was not strong...”

‘Elizabeth wondered how his father had been like. If his mother had wilted away like a delicate flower, perhaps his father had had some responsibility in the matter.   
Elizabeth questioned if Jane was of the same delicate condition and would not withstand the harsh reality that were the Viking way of life. If a daughter of an earl had succumbed, what would it do to her precious sister?’

Elizabeth staid much of the day at her husband’s side. The only English speaking Viking woman was avoiding her like the plague, her sister was occupied with her husband, utterly lost to her surroundings. If Elizabeth could contribute a small part to her sister's happiness, she would be content.

***

The day drew to an end and the newlyweds were back in the loft.   
The bed had been remade, all evidence of the previous night were gone.   
Thankfully, there had been no entourage that followed them to their chamber on this occasion.  
Elizabeth undressed herself, which in Viking garb was no hardship. Slipped under the covers, with her back to the Jarl. ‘Surely, he would be as reluctant as she to repeat the unpleasantness of yesterday.’

As it turned out, he was not. She was unceremoniously flipped on her back but his approach was much gentler than the previous night, albeit rather swift.   
A blessing in itself, by Elizabeth’s way of thought. The Jarl turned to his back and proved equally capable of snoring on his back as he had been, laying on his side. Elizabeth followed shortly, despite the raucous noise beside her.

The third day was much of a reputation of the previous, sanse the blót.   
The revellers were tiring out which afforded the Bennet family, some welcomed time in each others company.   
Elizabeth’s mother was browbeating her to part with some of the wealth she had received on the previous day.   
Elizabeth was not coerced, as she reckoned it would come in handy if she or Jane ever found themselves in a difficult situation. It would probably be enough to haul them back to Anglo-Saxon if it would become necessary.   
Jane admitted that she had received a hundred pounds from her father and an additional hundred from her husband, making her fairly wealthy by the current standards.   
Elizabeth wondered where her father had gotten hold of such a substantial amount in such a short time and suspected her uncle had something to do with it, if not the entire amount.   
As the evening drew near, a sober ambience fell on the Bennets. The next day, they would be parted for a long time, quite possibly forever.


	3. The Journey

Chapter III The Journey

The morning brought tears in abundance, a wistful farewell between loved ones.   
Lydia wailed even louder than her mother, who was uncharacteristically silent.   
Lydia went as far as begging Elizabeth to take her with her, promising to defend her older sister from the brutal savage, which made Elizabeth weary of much of her wedding night were generally known. 

Mr Bennet stood in the background, not fond of emotional displays regardless of occasion. He and John followed his oldest daughters to the dock and the magnificent ship that lay in waiting for them. 

It was a long and graceful looking ship, Elizabeth counted 34 ore-holes which meant it was built to carry a lot of merchandise. It had a life-like wood carved wolf in the bow and stern which made it impossible to determine the back from the front. A blood-red sail was hanging from the spare.   
Jane and Elizabeth’s chests were loaded together with crates of goods that the Vikings had traded in London, or so they claimed.

“How long will the journey take?”

“We will reach the coast within a sennight. We will stop to trade goods along the way and be home within a fortnight.”

Elizabeth suddenly realised that for the next seven days, she would not have a roof over her head nor any privacy for the basics. 

“There is no privy here...” It was a statement, not a question. 

“No, none that I can tell Jane. I am sure there must be some solution to this problem, although it quite escapes me at the moment.”

“How are you Elizabeth? We have not had the opportunity to talk for days. I am so happy, I can scarcely believe it. I do not deserve it...”

“Of course you do!” Elizabeth locked arms with Jane and pulled her out of hearing range of the others.

“How is Carl? Is he treating you well?”

“He is attentive and considerate, he goes out of his way to see to my every need and he is so handsome. I often find myself staring at him, he must think I am little light in the head.”

“Of course not, he probably believes that you are infatuated with him. I doubt he finds that offensive, even if he is a Viking.” Jane giggled which was practically unheard of.

“How was your wedding night Elizabeth? The stories I heard yesterday were absolutely horrible but you seem no worse for wear.”

“I have no idea of what they are saying but whatever the rumours claims to have happened, I suspect that it is grossly exaggerated. What about you? Did you have an entourage following you with torches to light up your life?”

“No. When Carl saw what happened to you and Fenrir, he took me to our loft, bolted the door and even pulled a chair under the handle for extra security.” 

“Fenrir?”

“Your husband... Do not be daft Elizabeth.”

“Oh, I just call him the Jarl. His name had quite escaped my memory.” Elizabeth did not mention all the other appellations she had added to his name.

They were called to the ship, ready to set sail. Elizabeth gave her father a crushing hug before boarding the ship.

“I refuse to say goodbye. Until we meet again...” 

With a soft kiss to his cheek, Elizabeth parted with her father for the unforeseeable future. Her brother had left as soon as they reached the ship, preferring to say his goodbyes sooner rather than later.

***

For three days, Elizabeth hang over the railing heaving her empty stomach. The positive side effect being that she had no need to heave her other end over the railing, in full view of the crew. The so-called privy was as base as it could get.

The Jarl tried valiantly to convince her to eat but Elizabeth could not bear the thought. On the fourth day, she was force-fed, or very close to it, as the Jarl was tired of her protests.  
Reluctantly, she had to admit, at least to herself, that food did help and she slowly regained her strength over the next couple of days. Jane had been unaffected by the ship’s rocking on the rolling waves. She looked like she was blooming while Elizabeth felt like an old rag.   
It was almost enough to make Elizabeth feel a tiny bit of resentment towards her infallible sister. Sick and despondent as she was.

The honey-sweetened ale was once again thrust into her face by the always present Caroline.

“You have to drink this until the next full moon, you know. It is to bless your marriage and make it prosper.”   
Elizabeth thought that the only thing that was prospering was her stomach content which seemed to expand up her throat.

“I believe a sip a day would cover that Caroline. You should stick to water for the remainder of the journey Elizabeth. Sweets do not aid your seasickness.” 

“Thank you, I will adhere to your superior wisdom in this instance.”

“What about other instances?” The Jarl raised an eyebrow at her.

“We shall see, if your wisdom stretches to other areas or if it is limited to sea travels.”

“You are definitely feeling better, judging by your defiance.”

“Yes, thank you. I am quite recovered and impatient to put my feet on solid ground again.”

“It will be a few days before it will seem like solid ground. It is common for the seasick to feel the roll of the waves, even on land.”

“Really! What an absolutely horrible thought. I refuse to even contemplate that outcome.”

The Jarl smiled, a transformation of his countenance hitherto unseen by his wife. The effect was profound and unsettling. 

The next day, land was sighted. 

“Where are we?” Elizabeth questioned the nearest rower.

“Fröyland,” her husband answered from behind. 

“We will stock up on food and trade some of our goods, before sailing home.” 

Elizabeth smiled at the thought of planting her feet on solid ground. She stood as close to the bow as she dared and looked longingly at the little holms and skerries in the water. 

The sail was pulled down and around twenty men were rowing the ship to land, manoeuvring between the sharp edges of the skerries. The port was buzzing with activity. Trade stalls were lined up and loud negotiations travelled across the water to the occupants of the ship. 

The thralls on the ship were suddenly very busy and jumped off the ship to tie it to the pier. The Jarl offered Elizabeth his hand to pull her onto the dock. 

‘Finally!’ Her feet were on dry land. It did not feel like land though, it felt like she were still on the ship. The ground was swaying under her feet.’ Elizabeth frowned as Jane skipped happily from the ship and locked arms with her sister. 

“Is it not lovely to have firm ground beneath ones feet, I am so relieved the journey has gone so well.” Elizabeth scowled at her sister who laughed in return. 

“Do not frown Elizabeth, it does not become you. Now, let us see what the traders have to offer.”

Jane tugged her sister forward, marriage obviously agreed with her. A new sense of confidence and independence had settled and a more secure Jane had emerged.   
Elizabeth tagged along her sprightly sister and was grumpily admitting that it were interesting goods on display.   
Firs, fabrics, ceramics, kitchen supplies, fish and beautiful jewellery lei on tables and the tradesmen were trying to convince them to buy their goods in a foreign language.   
Elizabeth was drawn to a purple and a deep red woollen fabric, the colours were exquisite, A dark blue linen fabric that reminded her of the night sky, particularly caught her attention and she ran her hand, absentmindedly over the sample.  
A gold brooch with a man facing a woman, probably some of the Norse gods, was twinkling in the sun and kegs of wine were lined up underneath the table. What would not Elizabeth give for a glass of wine to replace the nauseatingly sweet mead, that the Vikings seemed to favour? 

Elizabeth looked around, wondering if they would have a roof over their head tonight or if it were going to be another damp and cold night under the sky.

Their heads full of new Impressions, their stomach grumbling in discontent, the sisters took some bread and cheese and walked to a flat rock on the beach, overlooking the archipelago.   
They settled down and ate in silent reverie. The landscape was rugged and beautiful in a wild and untamed way. Elizabeth mused that nature had much to offer although the people seemed a little lacking in their civilities. 

The night was spent on the ship to Elizabeth’s consternation but at least it was still tied to the pier and therefore not rocking as viciously as it had, out on the ocean. 

The next morning, the sky had turned grey and the rain was threatening to fall at any minute. The Vikings seemed to make haste to untie the ship and leave land.   
Quite contrary to Elizabeth’s inclination. The wind was picking up which seemed a stellar reason to stay ashore to Elizabeth but not to her husband. 

“The winds are with us, we will make great speed and be home a little earlier than anticipated.” 

“Really? I thought it might be wise to wait out the storm on land...”

“This is not a storm Elizabeth, just a little wind.”

“But how will you navigate when the sun and the stars are hidden behind the clouds?”

“We are close to land now Elizabeth, I navigate by landmarks, islands, birds and other animals. It is not necessary to see the sky although it is helpful.”

“Oh...” 

Elizabeth stomach was not impressed by the new ferocity of the rolling waves as it churned and she started to feel warm, which was a nice change to the chill of the wind.

“Are you feeling warm Elizabeth, you look a little flushed?”

“Yes, thank you. I suddenly feel quite comfortable.”

“It is the seasickness setting in again. You should eat.” 

Her husband thrust a handful of dried meat, some bread and a very welcome goblet of wine in her hands and Elizabeth ate with no objections this time, wise by experience. 

The wind increased and the clouds released their moisture in large, fat drops. Elizabeth warmth escaped her and she begged to take an ore to try to keep warm by physical labour.   
The Jarl was dead set against it but she defied him and took an ore regardless. Not that it was strictly necessary as the wind had a firm hold on the blood-red sail. They flew over the water at an alarming speed until they where outside the archipelago and the waves grew to monstrous proportions.

Jane was not as well as she had been the previous days, the howling of the wind and the harsh drop off every wave had her unsettled and anxious. Elizabeth left the ore to tend her sister. Urging her to eat some of leftover dried meat and bread. She also found that her stomach settled more when she sat still as opposed to moving about. They huddled together under thick woollen blankets that seem to keep them warm despite the dampness of the fabric. 

It proved to be two gruelling days until the wind settled and they could keep closer to the shallow waters near land. It was more treacherous though as it were an abundance of skerries, both above and below the surface that it was paramount to avoid. 

***

The sun was shining, drying their wet clothes on their backs and Elizabeth was pleased with the information that they would reach their destination in just two more days. Very welcome news for Jane as well, who perked up considerably. 

“How far is it from the port to our destination?” Elizabeth enquired of her husband.

“We will arrive at our dock, it is a matter of minutes to reach our home. Your sister will have about an hour ride to their home or a little less by sea.” Elizabeth smiled at the thought of having her sister so close by but it dawned on her that since she had no horse, it might be significantly longer on foot.

“How long by foot? To Jane’s home, I mean...”

“I do not know, three hours perhaps. It depends on the walker I suppose. You might ask one of the thralls, they walk there occasionally.”   
Elizabeth did not remind him that she could not converse in a language she did not know.


	4. The Homecoming

Chapter IV The Homecoming

Elizabeth was impressed, she reluctantly admitted it.   
The house that stood on the hill was easily three or four times the size of Longbourn. A long-house, across from the large three-story log house was the same size as Longbourn but there must be at least ten other buildings. Some were obviously for animals and some were accommodations for the workers. One of the smaller ones picked Elizabeth’s interest as it were two stories, the second being broader than the lower, how quaint. 

As the ship reached shore, people of all sizes and ages came streaming towards them.   
A little toddler ran towards the Jarl and tugged on his trousers. Elizabeth was astonished that no one seemed the least bit intimidated by the fierce Jarl, not even the children. The Jarl lifted up the little boy and tossed him to a warrior.

“Yours, I believe.” 

“Yes Fenrir, this little warrior is mine.” 

The father replied proudly before the mother of the boy came running. She threw herself around his neck and kissed him soundly, leaving no room for additional comments. 

To her left and right, happy reunions unfolded before her eyes. Mothers embracing their sons, happy they were home safe and sound.  
Children, longing for their fathers to return home and the wives, throwing themselves at their loved ones.   
Elizabeth wondered if she would ever feel that way about her husband when he returned from an expedition...

An older, grey-haired lady stood waiting for the sailors to come on land while a younger lady with hair as white as snow that were almost as long as Elizabeth’s, came running towards them. She flung herself around the Jarl’s neck and he swung her around laughing as they twirled. 

“I am Ragnhild, welcome to Nidaros. Let us give the siblings some room to reconnect, shall we?” She gestured towards the house as she spoke in fluent English. 

What gave Elizabeth away as Anglo-Saxon, she had no idea but she sent a silent prayer of thanks that the Lord had gifted her another English speaking female at her new home. Ragnhild caught a look of the significantly shorter-haired Caroline and sighed.

“What has Caroline done this time? It must be the fiery Scottish blood in her that makes her such an unruly woman and enslaved as well. It must have been of no little significance to have been degraded to that.”

Elizabeth felt uncomfortable, she had not been the one to tell on Caroline, it had been the lady that she later had learned were the Norse form of priestess but she felt guilty regardless.  
The urge to make a good impression on what could possibly be a friend made her confess though.

“I am afraid that it is my fault.” Elizabeth stared at the ground. 

“She dropped a heated stone in my bath that burned my thigh and when the Jarl noticed it, he made it his mission to find the perpetrator and punish her. I swear I did not make any requests for punishment at all, I believed at the time that it had been an unfortunate mishap.”

“You do no longer believe it was a mishap?”

“I am no longer sure...” Elizabeth was cautiously avoiding any accusations that might be taken badly by the lady in front. The name suddenly rang a bell in Elizabeth’s head.

“Oh, I suddenly remember my husband mentioning you or are there several Ragnhild’s on the estate?”

“No, it is only me on this estate. Who did you marry?”

“The Jarl.” The reaction was instant and profound. 

“Oh pardon me, my lady, I had no notion, I am so sorry. The Jarl had not mentioned...”

Elizabeth had to laugh at the ladies stuttering and stammering. 

“Do not look so intimidated. No offence has been taken. I am glad that there is another English speaking female on the estate and I want us to be friends.”

“I am the late Jarl’s frille.”

“I know, as long as you are not the current Jarl’s frille, I do not care.” Ragnhild gave her a stunned look.

“I will ask the Jarl what he wants me to show you or perhaps he wants to do the honours himself?”  
“I highly doubt that.” Elizabeth looked over her shoulder towards the Jarl and his sister, chatting away all smiles and shrugged. 

“I do not think he would notice. Lead the way Ragnhild, I am curious of my new home. What lovely colour of green on the trees by the bye. I swear they are much greener than the ones I am used to from Longbourn village.”

“Where is that?”

“My father owns a modest estate with five small-holdings, half a days journey from London.”

“The Jarl’s mother were from the northern parts, near the peaks. She was the daughter of an earl and a very accomplished and beautiful lady. Her daughter takes after her while the Jarl resembles his father. Although they have the colouring of the opposite parent.   
I came here when he was a little boy of four years old, Gjendine was not yet born. She is ten years his junior. No other siblings, unfortunately, Lady Anne was a delicate woman. She bore the Jarl two beautiful children and such a delight it has been to follow them from toddler to grown.   
The current Jarl was such a sweet-natured child, his way with animals is legendary. He can get any animal to follow him around like a puppy.   
He got his name from a wolf-pup, the hunters had killed its mother. Fenrir fed him goats milk and the wolf lived until last summer, reaching the ripe old age of ten and two which is a lot for a wolf.   
He found him the spring that his mother died, he was ten and two and his mother had just passed. He was stricken with grief and the pup certainly aided him in his despair. It is helpful to care for someone to forget ones sorrows, do you not think?” 

The lady left little room for any form of answers from Elizabeth, as she continued promptly.

“His real name is Fitzwilliam, it was his mother’s surname as the Vikings do not allow for naming anyone after someone that is still alive but he will probably enslave me if he knew I was telling you this. He has forbidden everyone from calling him that, I doubt many even remember there was a time that he did not have the name Fenrir. Fenrir is named for the gigantic wolf in Edda. He is the son of Loke and Angerboda and so strong that they had to build the chain Gleipne to contain him. It was built by six things that no one can find. A women’s beard, the sound of cat-paws, the breath of fish, the spit of bird, the roots of the mountain and the tendons of a bear.” 

“A fascinating tale Ragnhild but why did he not want to be called Fitzwilliam?”

“I have said more than I ought already, perhaps he will tell you in time...” For some reason, Elizabeth doubted that her husband did not seem inclined to tell her anything at all.

The duo had reached the main house, its entrance and door were adorned by beautiful and intricate carvings. Even the heavy iron hinges were exquisitely made. Elizabeth drew a deep breath and entered. As soon as she passed the threshold, Ragnhild handed her a set of keys and a belt to tie them around the waist.

“These are yours now that you are husfrue or housewife in English. It means you are the lady of the house.  
The running of the house, the storage and collection of food as well as sending out the hunters and the care for the livestock will be your responsibility as well as the accommodations and feeding of the workers and thralls. When the children come, they will fall mostly under your jurisdiction as well. When the Jarl is away, you will have the final say in the running of the land, the fishing boats, the swamp with the iron ore and the trade of goods. Any questions?”

Elizabeth shook her head in denial, it was too much to take in.

“I will proceed with showing you where the most important keys fit, the rest, we will address when it is necessary.” 

Elizabeth trudged after Ragnhild.   
The kitchen and the attached larder, in the main house, were the first but only rooms of the main house Ragnhild choose to prioritise. The longhouse with a great hall was next. A massive fire pit in the middle of the room was surrounded by more tables and chairs than Elizabeth had ever seen.  
Ragnhild explained that is was used when they held a Gildi for their friends and neighbours that could not fit in the main house. 

The cattle had its own house while sheep and pigs shared, the chickens were in another separate building.   
The funny-looking house she had first noticed was a storage for smoked and cured meat. Hams and sides of pork, hang from the ceiling in row upon row, too many to count, Elizabeth surmised. 

The farmworkers had a house, divided into separate rooms for each family and lastly the thralls house. It contained one large room with low ceilings. Beds were stocked along each side in more than one altitude and two long tables were situated on either side of the fire pit in the middle.   
The smoke lei heavy in the room, the chimney obviously needed work. Looking up at the roof, Elizabeth noticed that the chimney was a hole in the roof.  
There was a separate wash house for clothing, a bathhouse and Elizabeth was astonished to learn that they bathed every Saturday. Cleanliness was obviously an obsession for more than the Jarl himself. 

There was a smithy, a workshop for the woodcarvers and one for the silver work.   
One house was for the refining of wool.   
Elizabeth was feeling more than a little overwhelmed when Ragnhild decided they had explored enough for one day. She obviously had a lot to learn...

Out in the courtyard, Jane was searching for her and Elizabeth felt a little guilty that she had all but forgotten about her sister's presence. Jane was pale and her eyes were glossy.

“I am not feeling well Elizabeth. We will go home, I think the seasickness still has a hold on me. I see that you are well settled Elizabeth. The estate is beautiful and the main house is breath-taking.” 

Elizabeth thought unchristianly that it took more than a fine house to be ‘well-settled’ but did not voice her concerns out loud. Jane had not recovered completely from her bout of the seasickness and it would not be fair to hold her accountable for the ramblings of someone indisposed.

Elizabeth hugged her sister fiercely and said her farewells to Carl and a few men that belonged to the estate of Lade.   
Elizabeth stood and watched her sister’s carriage until it was out of sight. The yard was deserted, everyone must have gone inside the houses, probably to exchange news and listen to stories about the home comers travels.   
Elizabeth had no wish to participate after being cooped up in a cramped vessel for days.   
The Nidaros estate was situated on a hill that sloped towards a fjord, ending in a bluff above the water to her right while to her left, it sloped down to a beach where Elizabeth could see a lot of activity.   
The fishing boats were coming in with the catch of the day and several men were sharpening their knives for the slaying.   
Wooden poles stretched along the beach, with fish hanging to dry in the sun, to preserve it for the winter months.   
Elizabeth wondered what the winter would be like up north, would they snow in for months at a time.   
Elizabeth shivered at the thought of being closed off with the Jarl and his sister. She had made no effort to greet Elizabeth so far and she feared that she might not be welcomed by her new sister.   
She had not spared one look at new additions to the party. Elizabeth wandered towards the edge of the bluff. The sea hit the rocks beneath with a deafening sound and seagulls were making a ruckus down at the beach. 

The fish were in and the slayers threw the bones to the sea, the seagulls were fighting for the free leftovers with a vengeance. The air was salty and the sun was still high on the horizon, fooling Elizabeth to believe it was earlier than it really was. She did not yet know that the evenings were much longer so far north.

***

Inside the main house stories were exchanged between loved ones and the Jarl realised that he forgot his bride somewhere along the greetings. He had not seen her since they left the ship.   
He inquired after her and Ragnhild told him that she had kept her busy with filling her in on her duties and had handed over the keys.   
The Jarl was a little ashamed that he had not thought to do that himself but the joy of seeing his sister after months on sea had robbed him of his good sense.   
Not to forget the vast improvement of her state of mind that it had thrilled him to notice and had stalled him from interrupting her exciting renditions of life at Nidaros while he had been away.   
She had thanked him profusely for bringing Caroline with him as they did not get along or more accurately, Gjendine did not appreciate the company of Caroline but Caroline had nothing but praise for Gjendine. Following her around like a puppy when he was not present himself but Gjendine did not particularly like to be bothered at every turn and scoffed at the insincere praise.   
Caroline would love to be considered Gjendine’s friend while Gjendine would love to be left alone. He sighed and hoped that his wife would make Gjendine a little more sociable but he was not too optimistic, wondering if it could be done at all. Growing up with only men and servants had made it abundantly clear that his sister was lacking female company.

Caroline was a necessary evil. His father had been on the brink of war and only by connecting himself to the enemies bastard daughter, accepting her as his frille had prohibited a bloodbath from happening when his father died unexpectedly.   
The amazing benefit to the conundrum had been the friendship he had developed with the enemies son. When Brage Haraldson had succumbed to illness, a year after his father had died, the friendship had deepened and he had forged an alliance with Carl Brageson that had united the two large seats in the area and peace had been restored for the last four years. Not wasting time and resources on battling with his neighbours had brought both Lade and Nidaros to new heights, both in wealth and prosperity. 

“Who is the lady coming from the bluff?” Gjendine’s question jolted the Jarl from his reminiscences.

“That is my wife.” Gjendine shot from her seat. 

“You have married and you did not even tell me?”

“I forgot...”

“Really! What will she think of me when I did not even welcome her to her new home? She will think me a simpleton or worse. Arrogant and aloof.”

“She will think nothing of the sort, she is a sensible lady.” The Jarl said with conviction, hoping to wipe the smirk of Caroline’s face, who had somehow wiggled her way into the main house instead of the thrall house were she belonged.

“Is she from Kaupang or perhaps Fröyland?”

“No, she is from England. Her father owns a modest estate not too far from London.”

“Oh!”

“Her brother sold her to save his honour. The Jarl made him a sordinn for questioning his honour at the trade in London. He was going to attack us with five men.” Caroline laughed at the absurdity. 

“They did not leave a scratch on our men but your brother had to enslave him after such audacity. He chose to exchange himself with one of his sisters.   
He was originally going to pick the eldest but her hair was too short.   
He chose the second eldest for her hair although she was not as pretty by half as her older sister.   
Petit and dark-haired. There is nothing in her features to recommend her. Her teeth is alright is suppose but she shows a kind of conceited independence that is unappealing.   
She absolutely hated the marriage bed. Hid behind her hands while bleeding profusely. She is not going to produce many offspring if any, mark my words.   
Your brother would do much better to look elsewhere, for his heirs.”

“That will be quite enough Caroline. By the buy, what are you doing at this table? Leave, your belongings will be moved to the thrall house. Ragnhild, see that her meagre belongings are moved promptly.”

“It is no longer my place, Fenrir.” The Jarl look dumbfounded at Ragnhild. 

“It is your wife’s domain and I will not overstep my authority.”

Properly chastened, the Jarl hang his head.   
‘Was he destined to fail at every turn as a husband? His failure on their wedding nights were in the forefront of his mind. Three nights in a row he had failed to control his munuth, his desire, and by that had not only failed to bring enjoyment to his wife but he had hurt her, repeatedly.   
It was unforgivable and the respite from utilizing his rights at their journey had come as a blessing. Perhaps if he relieved himself with Caroline or one of his other thralls before retiring he could produce the necessary control. If it had not been for that nagging feeling of culpability...’

“I will see to it,” a pleasant alto voice announced from behind. 

“Caroline, come with me and we will get you and your belongings sorted out.”

Caroline reluctantly rose and followed Elizabeth out of the room.

“You will have to lead the way, Caroline. I have no idea where your lodgings are.”

‘Another failure, the Jarl thought despondent. He had not even made sure she crossed the threshold safely. It could wrack all sorts of havoc with their future by failing to secure her transcendence from her former life to the new.’

“I wonder how much of Caroline’s rant she heard and if she noticed that no one gainsaid her?” Gjendine mused out loud and earned a groan from the Jarl.

“All of it, I would guess...” Ragnhild mused from the opposite side of the table. She had spotted the housewife on the threshold, long before she had made her presence known.

Elizabeth followed Caroline to the loft, she was about to open a door when fair-haired lady blocked her path.

“You have nothing in my brother’s quarters I believe.” Gjendine had had the forethought that Caroline could be up to some mischief. 

“I believe stealing from your master is punishable by death, perhaps the Blood Eagle treatment might suit.” 

Caroline gasped and stuttered.

“I was just checking if I had left something.”

“Not very likely since I doubt you have ever set foot in this room.”

Caroline turned on her heel and stumped down the stairs to the first floor and a bedroom off the kitchen. Gathered her belongings and smirked to Elizabeth. 

“Where to, husfrue?” Elizabeth gestured for her to follow and walked down to thrall house.

“Is there a vacant bed here?” The thralls pointed towards a bed and Elizabeth lead Caroline to it. Making an assumption based on Caroline’s short hair and luggage rather than any understanding of the English language. 

“You cannot leave me here, the conditions are appalling. You need me to run the house, you have no experience...”

“I can and I will. It is not me who enslaved you, complaints should be handled by the Jarl. I do not need you, Ragnhild has proved to be a useful resource and lastly.” Elizabeth made a dramatic pause to emphasis her words. “You know nothing of what my experiences are. Do not suppose you know anything about me because you do not. Good evening Caroline.” 

Elizabeth sailed out of the thrall house with her head held high, although her shoulders slumped when she was out of sight. Hiding her face in her hands, she drew deep breaths, wishing Jane was less than three hours walk away. A gentle touch to her shoulder alerted her to the presence of Gjendine.

“I am sorry I did not greet you properly when you came. I did not know my brother had married. Please excuse my negligence, I do not even know your name.”

“Elizabeth,” Elizabeth said, recognising that she did not even know her own surname.

“I do not know what my surname is...”

“What was your surname?”

“It was Bennet.”

“That will not do... What was your father's first name?”

“It was Thomas.”

“Elizabeth Thomasdottir it is. I am Gjendine Darcydottir and your husband is my brother.”  
Elizabeth curtsied and took a good look at her new sister. She was young, much younger than her brother.

“Welcome to Nidaros Elizabeth Thomasdottir, I understand you are Anglo-Saxon? My mother was from the state of the Angles up north but they are under the Danish king Guthrum now... Did you leave much family back in England?”

“Yes, my mother and father, three sisters and a brother. My oldest sister followed me here though, she married Carl Brageson and are currently at his estate Lade.”

“It must be a comfort to have some of your own so close when you have travelled so far from home.”

“Yes, I wish it was even shorter though. I am greedy.” Elizabeth laughed at herself.

“I am an excellent walker but three hours each way does not leave much time for visiting. At least not in the darker winter months.” Elizabeth sighed dejectedly.

“Let us rectify some misunderstandings but I need my brother for that. Come to the house Elizabeth and we will sort it out.”

Gjendine stomped to her brother and positioned herself directly in front of him and harked loudly. His head jerked up towards the stormy countenance of his sister. 

“I have had an interesting conversation with your wife, after stopping Caroline from venturing into your chamber, by the bye. Who knows what she was thinking she was going to get from there but I digress...   
Your wife, who did not know her last name, is under the impression that she would have to walk to visit her sister. She does not know where she lives in this house but she has the keys, I noticed.   
What little good they can do when you do not know where they fit. Perhaps you should take some time to inform your wife. Her name is Thomasdottir, that we have established.” 

Elizabeth stood blushing behind his sister, her heightened colour reminded him of the kisses they had shared on their first wedding day.

“I am sorry Elizabeth, I should have... Well, we will do a short round today and a more thorough one on the morrow.” 

The Jarl got up from his seat and went to the stables which was one building Elizabeth had not seen yet.

“Ragnhild did show me some of the places where some of the keys fit.”

“Good, know I am going to show you your horse.”

“My horse?” Elizabeth sounded a little intimidated and the Jarl turned towards her and studied her intently. 

“You do ride?”

“Yes, of course. But I do not own a horse.”

“Of course you do, it is part of your Heiman Fylgja which is the total amount of your dowry and mundr. The horse is part of that.” 

The Jarl lead her to a graceful and elegant white horse.

“This is yours. I recommend you do not ride out unaccompanied until you have familiarised yourself with the area. Take a Viking, not a thrall or a farmworker. It is important to me that you are safe and despite the fact that it is peace at the moment, one never knows when it will be broken. You could be used as a way to hurt me and I will not allow it.”

“I thought all of you were Vikings.”

“No. Only the seafarers are called Vikings. I guess you are a Viking now Elizabeth. Not many women are, except for the Valkyries.”

“Valkyrie?”

“A female warrior, I will not have you join them Elizabeth. You are needed at home.”

“I am not tempted, believe me.”

“Good.” 

The Jarl lead her to through the farmer's house and thrall house and presented her as his wife, or so Elizabeth thought as they seemed to treat her with more deference than the last time she had entered their premises. 

The fields were mostly bare but a few thralls, judging by the rags they wore, were picking something from the earth when one of the Vikings came by, lifted her skirts and entered her with no further ado.  
Elizabeth gasped, not only by the audacity of the Viking but of the burns in the young woman's face that was plain to see when she turned to see who accosted her.

“The nerve... you must stop him! He cannot just...” Elizabeth gesticulated wildly towards the offending couple.

The Jarl ceased his wife’s arm and pulled her in the opposite direction.

“I cannot!”

“But why? You are the head of Nidaros, surely you could do something?”

“It is his thrall, he has every right to whatever he pleases with her. I am not going to interfere.”

“But...”

“Elizabeth, the customs here are not what you have been used to. It will take you some time to adjust but the thralls are in essentials slaves and they do not have any rights. If I had interfered, it would have led to bloodshed. Trym would have had to challenge me for interfering with his property...”

“What happened to her face? ”

“She must have displeased him severely for him to brand her face, I do not allow any other maiming of the thralls without a hearing and it has to be a grave insult to lose a limb.”

Elizabeth decided to let the matter rest until she had gotten a better understanding and they walked back to the main house to tour the building from bottom to top. At their final destination, Elizabeth recognized the door that Caroline had shown her earlier but this time she got to enter it. 

The ceilings were low but the room was massive, taking up half of the house.  
In the centre stood an enormous, four-poster bed that Elizabeth suspected had travelled with the late mistress from England.   
The covers looked soft and inviting with a suspect amount of fluff. It could not be real. In a pick of childish exuberance, Elizabeth flung herself on the bed and laughed at her own folly. It was exquisitely soft and comfortable. 

“What is it made of?”

“Eiderdown.” 

Elizabeth flipped onto her back, her husband was hovering over her, inches from her face. How cunningly fast he could move.   
A thrill went through her as his hand grabbed her waist but he released her instantly. 

“You are damp, why have you not changed your travelling clothes?”

“I did not know where my clothes were.”

“This will not do.” The Jarl grabbed her hand and pulled her up. Searched the room and strode to the chest that Elizabeth had brought from home. 

“Find something to wear, a chemise and a cape will do.” 

Elizabeth opened the chest and were surprised to find several yards of the fabrics that she had liked at the trade market in Fröyland, with the brooch that she favoured on top.   
She thanked the Jarl, who obviously had been paying her a lot more attention than she had noticed at the time. With the requested items, tucked over her arm, the Jarl pulled her with him, out of the door.

“Where are you taking me? I cannot go outside with these garments.”

He did not heed her pleading but kept dragging her along until they reached the bathhouse.   
To her amazement, the bathhouse was buzzing with activity. Thralls were carrying heavy buckets of water and tending to the fire. Elizabeth stood pensive and watched the bath be prepared.

“How did they know that we would be needing the bath.”

“It is not Saturday but they know I always bath after a sea journey as there are little options for a bath on the ship. Do you need help to undress.”

“No, I need privacy.”

“Right.”

A command Elizabeth did not understand was given but as it made everybody scurry out the door, she did not care.   
She did, however, care, that the Jarl divested himself of his clothes and were obviously going to share her bath.   
She had to admit that his body impressed her though. Broad-shouldered and massive as he was. She could see the muscles, ripple under the skin of his thighs when he climbed in.   
Elizabeth immediately regretted not undressing herself while he was similarly engaged. He was now ogling her expectantly and she had no choice but to be done with it under heavy scrutiny. 

She made hast and climbed into the bath where the Jarl grabbed her leg and inspected the burn on her thigh. 

“It is healing well, no sign of festering.” 

Elizabeth jerked her leg out of his iron grip and scooted back until she hit the side of the bath. The Jarl was watching her with dark eyes and a serious expression, belying his relaxed stance with his arms outstretched on the top of the bath, his legs casually spread. He was growing, she noticed and when it had first caught her eyes, it was exceedingly difficult to look away. ‘It is no wonder I bled,’ thought Elizabeth. ‘I am rather surprised I was not ripped in half...’

“Turn your back towards me.”

“Why?”

“Do you always question every command?”

“I did not know I was commanded. Am I to suppose that all your words are commands or may I sometimes interpret them as suggestions?”

“I think I will settle for commands at the time being...” 

Elizabeth sucked in a harsh breath and turned her back to her husband. He yanked her closer and to her astonishment, started to lather her back with soap. Her hair followed and she had to admit that he seemed proficient enough to accomplish the task. She was ordered to stand up as he rinsed her hair and when the deed was done, he handed her the soap to finish the rest of her body.   
The Jarl settled back and watched rather than cleaning himself which Elizabeth found more than a little unsettling. When she had finished, she tried to hand the soap back to him but he did not take it. Instead, he turned his back towards her, obviously expecting her to return the favour of washing his back.  
It was a rather thrilling experience, Elizabeth realised that she had hardly touched her husband and he was well built. It was no hardship to provide this service at all, getting a good look of the wolf that was permanently drawn on his back.   
She loosened the ribbons that were tied neatly down every five fingers width of his queue and washed his hair. He stood up but grabbed the mug of heated water from her hands and poured it over himself. Which was just as good as Elizabeth doubted she could have reached above his head anyway.  
He tied up his hair as to not let it fall into the soapy water, he sat down and turned his front to her, gesturing for her to continue her ministrations, settled his head back and closed his eyes.   
Elizabeth lathered his torso and studied the snarling wolf that occasionally changed his shape by the Jarl tensing and relaxing the muscles in his chest. The Jarl seemed to be savouring her gentle ministrations as his eyes did not open. She continued with his legs that was painted with ornaments and patterns, omitting the intimidating area. She wondered if the drawings meant something particular or if it were just decorations. 

Elizabeth was tight with tension by the time she finished, expecting to ravished at any moment and scooted back to the opposite corner.  
The Jarl rose and offered her his hand. She took it and he pulled her up beside him and unceremoniously lifted her out of the tub and on to the cold stone floor.   
Elizabeth shivered as her feet touched the stones. The Jarl grabbed a cloth and wrapped it tightly around her before taking another cloth to squeeze the water out of her hair. The fabric had lei on the stones around the fire pit and were deliciously warm and comfortable. 

He dried himself while Elizabeth continued to rub her hair. When he was finished, he unwrapped her and pulled the chemise over her head and wrapped the cloak around her shoulders. With just a cloth tied around his waist, he lifted her into his arms and carried her back to the house.  
“I can walk...”

“I know, I am carrying you over the threshold for our future felicity. I am rectifying my neglect from when we first arrived.”

Elizabeth were carried to her chamber and gently put to bed. The Jarl tucked her in the covers and dressed himself. 

“Sleep Elizabeth, it has been an arduous journey for someone unfamiliar with the sea.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have some business to attend.”

The Jarl left but Elizabeth did not find sleep immediately. She was pondering the conundrum that were her husband. Feeling much relieved and a tad disappointed...


	5. The Recovery

Chapter V The Recovery 

Morning dawned and Elizabeth had not slept this well in weeks.   
The comfortable looking bed had lived up to its promising appearance and had provided much relief for a travel-worn body.  
She was clutching on for dear life at the edge of the bed though, as her husband lay sprawled with limbs in every direction. He was probably used to sleep alone, she thought miffed at his inconsiderate position.   
Her legs almost reached the floor before she was hauled back to bed and deposited unceremoniously on her husband’s chest. Her lips was attacked fiercely and hands were roaming her body. Not unpleasantly so, she admitted. The kissing she quite enjoyed and when he finally entered her, she let out some sounds that she found disturbing but could not help.

***

The day was spent familiarizing herself with the estate and her responsibilities, the Jarl never left her side.   
Gjendine and Ragnhild provided aid and support where it was needed but Elizabeth felt a special kinship towards Gjendine.  
She was interested in Elizabeth for herself, asked probing questions that made Elizabeth laugh and she did not hold it against her that she was a foreigner.

She sensed the scepticism from many of the residents of Nidaros and understood that she would have to prove herself worthy. A daunting task when you did not speak the language so Elizabeth engaged Gjendine in teaching her the basics, just as much to fend off the too personal questions.   
She notified her that guests were expected in a fortnight as it was their turn to host the Gildi. Preparations would need to be addressed forthwith and Elizabeth joined her forces with Ragnhild and Gjendine, letting the Jarl have some time to address his own concerns. 

The next morning, a rider entered the courtyard at great speed. Jane had taken ill and were asking for her sister. Elizabeth wanted to saddle her horse and be on her way but the Jarl was adamant against it, ordered the carriage and insisted on accompanying her to Lade.

Lade rose majestically on the top of a promontory. The houses were not as grand as the ones at Nidaros but just as elaborately carved.   
Carl was waiting at the door, anxiously ushering them inside. Elizabeth enquired after the whereabouts of her sister and handed Carl some herbs she wanted his cook to brew into a tea.  
Entering Jane’s room, she could tell from a distance that her sister was running a fever. Flushed and damp, she lay restlessly tossing and turning. Elizabeth sat down by her side and coaxed her awake to let her know that she had arrived.   
Jane’s relief was palpable, wanting the company as much as her sister's famous herb remedies.   
The tea was brought and allowed Jane to fall into a much more peaceful slumber. 

Elizabeth did not leave her side before she was summoned to the evening meal. As soon as she was done with the meal, she was back at her sister's bedside and the night proved to be a difficult one.   
Jane was burning up and Elizabeth tried valiantly to lower her temperature with a cloth dipped in cold water.   
By morning she was utterly exhausted but the fever had relented somewhat and Elizabeth fell asleep in the chair beside her sister's bed. She awoke with a start in an unknown bed, her husband pacing the room.

“The fever is rising, I was unsure if I should wake you so soon or if you wanted to sleep a bit more.”

Elizabeth leapt out of bed, stark naked. Fumbled with her garments that were thankfully folded neatly on a table, freshly washed and run out in the hall but just as soon stepped back into the room.

“Would you be so kind as to escort me to my sister’s chamber?”

Jane was burning up and Elizabeth cursed herself for falling asleep when she should have made certain that Jane was drinking her herbal tea.   
Spooning tea into Jane, her every lucid moment and cooling her burning skin took up all hours of the day and she ate in Jane’s chamber whatever they brought her.   
By nightfall, she finally seemed to find more rest and the night progressed calmly. By the next morning, the fever had broken. 

There were a knock on the door and none other than Caroline entered. 

“I can manage the care of my sister. Should you not be at Nidaros?” 

“No, I need to take care of my sister. I could say the same about you by the bye. Why are not you at Nidaros?”

“Carl bought me back from Fenrir. I am going to live here now and Fenrir has ordered me to care for Jane.” 

Elizabeth strode out of the chamber with fierce determination and a target in mind.  
He was easily located in the company of Carl.   
Elizabeth placed her hands on her hips and stared the mighty Viking strait in the eyes.

“What do you mean by replacing me in my own sister’s sick room? With a thrall of all things... Do you think that anything other than sisterly affection can nurse Jane back to health? I almost lost her last night, for heavens sake!” Elizabeth voice had risen in volume considerably by the time she had finished. 

“Heaven matters little in this instance Elizabeth. Carl wanted to purchase his sister and I could hardly deny him. She lives here now and it is her right to tend for her family.”

“She is my sister!”

“Elizabeth, you have tended your sister for two days and two nights. I am so grateful you and Fenrir came here and help with Jane but she is much better now and Fenrir needs to go home and you need to sleep.” 

“Thank you, Carl, but I am quite sure I can decide for myself if and when I need to sleep. I need to continue with the herbs to prevent a relapse.”

“You need to go home to Nidaros and prepare for the Gildi we are hosting and I cannot be away at this point.”

“You could go to Nidaros and I could stay here, tending my sister.”

“No.” 

Elizabeth flung her hands in the air and stormed up the stairs to her sister's chamber. Heavy footsteps followed and her elbow was caught from behind, just inside the door.

“Gather your things, leave instructions for the tea with Caroline, we are leaving.”

“I was just going to say goodbye...” 

The Jarl eyed her suspiciously and stood on the threshold with his arms across his chest, waiting impatiently. 

“Enjoying married life Fenrir?” Caroline was more concerned with the Viking on the threshold than her sick sister in the bed.

“Yes.” 

Caroline’s smile was wiped out. Why Elizabeth had no idea. She whispered words of comfort to Jane and said her goodbye.

The ride home was a silent one, two people brooding, left little for conversation. By the time they where home, the ambience were at the freezing point and they went their separate ways to tend their chores. 

***

When Elizabeth entered their chamber that night, a thrall scurried out of the room with her clothes in her hand and ran down the hall.  
The Jarl lay languishing on top of the covers, his hands was tucked behind his head with his bare body in full view.   
Elizabeth felt the bile rising in her throat but strived to hold her composure and act nonchalantly. She could smell her on him and it disgusted her. 

She slipped under the eiderdown cover but were firmly pulled out to perform a duty. She was puzzled that he could perform so soon after what had apparently been a tryst with the thrall...

“Never defy me in front of another person again. Being friend or foe, family, neighbour or stranger, you will obey me without questions. Do you understand?”

Elizabeth nodded and turned her back at him, to hide the tears that were forming in her eyes. Never, would she show the bastard that he had hurt her. 

‘Had he embraced her as a form of punishment? Being told off as soon as the seed had left his body, certainly made it feel like it...  
No, she would not care. He could do as he pleased, it was his right. She would not care.   
She could smell the sweet mead on his breath and she remembered that she had not drunk the honey-sweetened ale for two days.  
A determination to only pretend to drink the vile ale rose in her mind. Served him right for adhering to the heathen customs. Elizabeth prayed for her own soul, for her participation in the pagan customs that she had no choice...’

The Jarl had fallen asleep, satiated and ale infused, he did not awaken before Elizabeth had long arisen.

***

Elizabeth was thankful for the indispensable aid of Ragnhild and Gjendine. Without any experience of what a traditional Gildi should contain, it was crucial to have the ladies to aid her.   
She was determined that Jarl should not find fault with her performance, his punishment she was loathed to repeat.

A cow that had seen better days and were giving too little milk was chosen to be lead to the slaughter first. Needing to hang, with the weather growing colder, it would take longer to become tender enough to eat.   
A piglet that had been small at birth and had grown slow, was chosen to be roasted whole on a spear, coated in honey.   
Just the smell of honey made Elizabeth queasy, must be the overdose of the honey-sweetened mead, she figured. Another good reason to take as little as possible.

A lot of the chickens would be sacrificed as well, it was important to let the brood hens lay on as many eggs as possible to replace the once that would be eaten. A few days without would not be a problem for Elizabeth which was not the case with the Jarl. Elizabeth grudgingly let the Jarl have his morning egg, while the others managed without.

Apples were picked for the chutney and the sweetmeat. Elizabeth had laughed to her stomach ached when Ragnhild had told her they would make veiled peasant girls for sweets.  
She was rather relieved when the dish with the funny name turned out to be cooked apples with dried breadcrumbs and whipped cream.   
Not what she would have guessed by the name only...

The lambs did not need to hang as long as the other animals and they waited a few days to choose those.   
In the meantime they went on the moors to collect thyme and other wild-growing herbs that Elizabeth had never heard of, others she recognised as ones that grew at home.   
Elizabeth was particularly interested in herbs as it had been one of her chores at home, to make remedies for improving their health and dry spices to flavour the food.   
Jane was the proficient in picking flowers and fruit and make water that smelled heavenly. A pang of longing for her sister hit Elizabeth in the gut and it must have shown in her countenance because Gjendine asked her if she missed home.

“No, at least not particularly at the moment. I was thinking about Jane... I wonder if she has recovered?”

“You can send one of the warriors to enquire about her.”

“The Jarl would not mind?”

“Of course not. If it had been me he would have been beside himself, he is the best of brothers.”

“And the best Jarl too, ask any of the workers, farmhands and thralls. He is a fair and accomplished leader. There used to battles around every corner in this area a few years back and he singlehandedly brought us peace. He is admired and esteemed wherever he goes, around here.” Ragnhild added to support Gjendine’s praise of her brother.   
Elizabeth bit her lip. Ragnhild and Gjendine did not know about the resent hostility between the newlyweds.   
They acted with perfect civility in company and hot authority against cold indifference in private.   
She could not tell Gjendine that the brother she worshipped was a brute and an adulterer, it would crush the girl's heart.   
Elizabeth sensed great sorrow behind the young girls mask and she would not add to it by destroying her faith in the only family she had left.

“Let's go ask someone then, who would you suggest?”

The messenger was located and sent off towards Lade and relief washed over Elizabeth as the Viking could report that Jane was not only well but fully recovered. 

The last day before the guests arrived were frantically hectic. Chickens were losing their heads, dried peas were soaked and Gjendine was tying a long leather string for the leather game.   
Tied in a circle, four participants grabbed the line and formed a square with the string outstretched between them. Wood sticks were placed behind them and the first one to pull the string to his sticks as far as to grab it had won. 

Elizabeth fancied, she might have a go of it herself...


	6. The Gildi

Chapter VI The Gildi

Guests from far and wide were arriving to celebrate the Winter Night Blót at Nidaros.   
Twenty-eight days after the autumnal equinox, to sacrifice to the gods, eat, drink and be merry.   
Every visitor brought ale to drink and to offer to the gods at the altar. Families with their children, warriors, poor and rich streamed into the courtyard and Elizabeth had her hands full with guiding them all in the right direction.   
The small piglet was slaughtered in front of everyone and the blood was spattered about on all and sundry.   
The air was getting chilly and Elizabeth had found a cloak in the storage, of what she surmised had been made of white sheep wool that had not been dyed as the colour was not uniform but was spattered with grey specks. Grey fir around the neckline gave additional warmth that Elizabeth highly appreciated as she had not brought her winter coat with her. Her brother had not been the best person to send to gather her belongings as he had little knowledge of what was necessary for a lady.   
Nothing could be done about that at the current moment so Elizabeth choose not to dwell on it. The cloak was in a sad state though as she had not escaped the priest or goði, blood infused birch branches when the Jarl came towards her with a stormy expression. 

“Where did you find my mother’s cape?”

“It was in a chest on the loft of the loom, Gjendine offered it to me...”

‘I knew I should have asked, the cape was much too fine to not belong to someone of significance.’

“Take it off. You should know better than to wear white during a blót, it is utterly ruined.”

Elizabeth unfastened the loop.

“Not here, inside. I will make sure it is cleaned properly, if not successfully.”

Elizabeth scurried inside, not sure where he meant she should put the cape so she left it neatly on his chair in their chambers.   
She felt guilty for running his mother’s cape. The intangible woman that influence and presence could still be felt in Nidaros, but not touched.   
Underneath, she was wearing the red dress from their second wedding day and it would not be ruined by a splatter of blood.

While the alter was filled up with ale and blood, the longhouse was filled up with guests. 

Built of stone and turf, the inside walls covered with a mix of mud and animal hair.   
It created a warm and inviting atmosphere with the carved pillars and the table covered with delicious food.   
The piglet had roasted for hours on a spear and glazed in honey, it made the centrepiece of the table. Surrounded by whole chickens filled with apples and herbs, chicken drumsticks with thyme, whole fish with onions, green pea stew and yellow peas with lamb broth, grain mixed with herbs, apple chutney and large bowls of veiled peasant girls.   
Ale was floating freely and the Vikings preferred a hollowed cow horn to drink from. 

Elizabeth was seated beside her husband, Gjendine was on his other side wile Elizabeth had Ragnhild on her other side.   
Ragnhild was a blessing, translating the words that Elizabeth did not understand yet.   
Language had come surprisingly easy to her and she had learned a lot through her work.   
The conversation turned to her and she asked Ragnhild what munuth meant, she said it translated to love thought which meant desire which made Elizabeth blush furiously. 

The Vikings started to chant “kissyr hana, kissyr hana” and she was hoisted up on her husband’s lap, kissed thoroughly and dumped back in her seat.   
She whispered to Ragnhild if kissyr hana meant to kiss her but she explained that it meant to kiss and cuddle. 

The Jarl, on the other hand, was imposed upon by all sorts of presumptuous and invasive questions. Did he enjoy his bride, did he put his thigh upon her frequently or had he given her a romp on the belly. The coarseness of their enquiries grated upon both the Jarl and his housewife.

The meal ended and the wives and children rose to leave. Elizabeth rose as well but was pulled to a stop by her husband and commanded to stay. 

The Jarl ordered a mannjafnaðr which meant nothing to Elizabeth until she grasped that a young man had been killed by the brother of the young lady he was wooing.   
He had obviously taken too long come to a decision and the young lady’s reputation had been questioned as a result of his procrastination.  
Adding to the insult, he had read her verses of love that obviously meant utter ruination for the young lady in question.   
The family of the young man wanted compensation for their loss and the twelve ounces of gold that was offered had been declined as inadequate as it was comparable to the bride-price for a poor man.   
The family in question demanded fifty ounces, the defendants had heightened their offer to twenty-five as their last and final offer.   
The dispute was agreed upon to be settled by wrestling on the morrow, by the most burly looking youngster from each clan.

“You were lucky that our wooing days were few.” Elizabeth mused out loud to her husband. 

“I did not woo you. We were engaged by the second day. There is no limit to the period of a betrothal just the courtship, it may take up to three years to find a date to marry after an engagement has been agreed upon.”

“Why were we wed in a few days then?”

“It was perfect timing.” 

Elizabeth disagreed with that statement as her opinion of perfect timing for their wedding would have been never, she was not as big of a fool to voice it out loud though. 

The next case was a swift one. A young lad had kissed a girl that had not volunteered in the act. He was fined three ounces of gold and did not dispute the verdict. 

With the mannjafnaðr finished, they proceeded with the distribution of the goods that the Jarl had brought home.   
Salt, spices, honey, wax, jewellery and ironworks was handed to their respective owners and lastly, the silver for the goods that he had sold were brought forward.   
The chest containing their earnings were large and filled to the brim. It took four stout men to carry it to the table.   
Hearty laughter erupted by the amount of silver that Alfred the Great, the king of the Anglo-Saxon, had parted with to be the proud owner of a unicorn horn.   
A sea voyage to the north for more narwhale teeth to sell were eagerly agreed upon and the silver were fairly measured out.   
The Jarl had brought his weight but many of the visitors had brought their own. Luckily no major differences were found and the ordeal passed with little trouble.

A drinking game ensued that made Elizabeth hastily retire for the evening. She had no wish to be announced the ǫlfø´rr as would be the questionable honour of the winner of the game.   
A handful of silver was added to the table as the prize. 

She awoke in the early morning hours when her husband, that looked like he had won the contest, and a couple of female thralls, entered their chamber with a lot of shouting and laughter. Elizabeth slipped from the bed and pulled her clothes into her arms, grazing the shadows by the walls, she was able to leave unnoticed. 

The Jarl was calling her name by the time she had reached the hall but that did not stop her. She hastened out of the house and found shelter in the loom house which was one of the few deserted areas.   
Appalling, disgusting things was happening in every bush and on every bench or table and Elizabeth had never felt so out of place her entire life and kept her eyes, firmly on the ground until she was safe inside the loom house.   
Her quiet was soon interrupted by approaching footsteps that made her hasten up the stairs to the low ceilinged loft. 

Two male voices she did not recognise argued about something she did not understand beside from the fact that one was pleading and the other was persuading.   
Strange slapping noises reached her hiding place that made her wonder if someone was being beaten.   
A few minutes passed before the door slammed shut, she was about to venture down to the loom when the sound of sobbing reached her ears.   
She quietly wondered what would make a grown man cry while fighting the urge to join his despair. 

She awoke several hours later, the yard was buzzing with activity. She wondered what people would think of her, joining them in the same clothes as yesterday but hoped that no one would notice. 

Gjendine approached as soon as she left the loom house.

“Where have you been, I have been looking all over for you...”

“I am sorry, I awoke very early... I was just checking how my purple dress was coming along. It looked absolutely stunning, so warm and comfortable. I cannot wait to wear it.”

“You must be freezing Elizabeth, where is the cape I gave you?”

“It was spattered with blood yesterday and in dire need of a washing. I am afraid your brother was none too pleased with my ruining his mother’s cloak.”

“Oh, never mind his bark. There is no bite to him, just some loud noises when he is displeased. Do not let it concern you Elizabeth. Come, let me lend you a cape before you catch a cold.”  
“Do not worry Gjendine, I never get sick. I will keep warm by keeping myself busy with our guests. I hear the children close by and I wanted to try the leather game.” 

They walked towards the noise when they came upon three men acting very strange. One man lay on his back when the second man positioned himself on top of him, stomach to stomach. The third man positioned himself on top of the three men, face downwards at the two first men’s feet, grabbing the legs of the bottom man.

“What on earth is going on over there?” Elizabeth pointed in their direction. 

“They are playing giving birth to a bear, the one in the middle has to wriggle himself from his cramped position to win,” Gjendine explained with a shrug. 

“Really? I hope women are not allowed to participate in this game?” 

Gjendine laughed. 

“No, they are not...”

The children had gathered in the meadow and Elizabeth had a great time supervising and participating in the play. 

She got her wish of trying the leather game fulfilled. The youngster did not seem to mind that she did not speak there language very well and used gestures and body language to aid their communication.   
Elizabeth frolicking with their young brought her favourably to the attention of the youngster's mothers. They timidly approached her and by the help of the children and Gjendine’s stellar translations, they got by with a lot of humour and laughter. Elizabeth decided it had been the best day hitherto on the wrong side of the sea and better yet, Jane was coming on the morrow. 

The most prominent ladies were served in the main house as they were not allowed to participate with the men in the longhouse.   
Elizabeth played her part as hostess, making sure that everyone was satisfied with food and drink. She had chosen to serve wine with the food instead of ale which were heartily appreciated as it was a much more expensive commodity than ale.   
Elizabeth would have loved to have the evening last forever but all good things come to an end. She dreaded to enter her chamber but did not dare to spend another night in the loft.   
To her utter relief, her husband was already abed and snoring when she entered.   
The bed, comfortably free of additional occupants had Elizabeth falling into a deep and exhausted sleep.

Morning dawned bright and promising, at least after suffering the duties towards her ever virile husband.   
She donned her new white dress with dark blue embroidery and hem with a dark blue chemise underneath. Shared her morning meal with her husband, sister and Ragnhild and it was nice to have a quiet meal for a change. She felt her duties calling though and as soon as she had eaten she rose to address them.

“You should wear a cape, it is chilly.” Her husband commanded. 

“I have none,” Elizabeth answered and left. 

Ragnhild came running after her and lead her to the loom who actually contained much more than the loom. It was where all of the work with fabric was done. The dying of the wool was usually done outside but the wool was spun and all the sewing was done there as well.

“Your new blue cape is done, I finished the frills last night.”

“Oh you should not have, you must have been exhausted...”

“Of course I should. I cannot have the lady of the house walking out of doors without a cape. The Jarl was adamant about that. The purple one will have fir for the colder winter days and it will be my next assignment. Let us see, it looks lovely on you.” 

Elizabeth wrapped herself in the soft, warm wool and practically purred with contentment while feeling a little bit foolish for her stubbornness...

“See, you needed it.”

“Yes, I did," 

Elizabeth reluctantly admitted before running out the door and into the arms of her newly arrived sister. They spoke simultaneously, laughed and started off again with more laughter to follow.   
She took Jane’s arm and tugged her along to show her the different entertainments for the children and proceeded to the meadow where the men were currently having a tug a war with rope made from the bark of lime trees.   
Carl enthusiastically entered on the losing end but did not contribute much to the outcome. Elizabeth noticed that Caroline was following them around like an insistent horsefly, putting on airs that belied her resent sojourn to the thrall position.   
Her hair was donned up leaving the shortness of it hidden. 

Elizabeth would have liked some private time with her sister but as it was not to be had, she left her to the capable hands of her husband and went to Gjendine who stood looking at her brother with a frown. 

He stood Surrounded by men with a least one or two young girls each and seemed to be negotiating. 

“What are they doing?” Elizabeth asked Gjendine. 

“They have discovered that Caroline is no longer Fenrir's frille and they are offering him their daughters as substitutes to secure a connection with the Jarl. Very convenient when you have goods to trade....” 

“But he has so many thralls.” 

It slipped out of Elizabeth’s mouth before she had the presence to check herself. The implication was not something she had planned to reveal.  
It was, however, too late to rectify so she tried to cover her embarrassment with blabbering which was an even worse idea.

“I understand it is quite common though. I have noticed that some men have as much as three or four, I believe it shows off their wealth to the other Vikings.” 

Gjendine was not fooled.

“You do not have to stand for it Elizabeth! You may threaten him with divorce, that might set him straight if not, I will. It is such a disgusting custom, it killed my mother you know.”

“I did not... What happened to her? Was it Ragnhild that...”

“No! She never shared my father’s bed, she arrived after he married my mother when Fenrir was about four I believe. It was after I was born and my mother had suffered vastly from the birth, it left her weakened for the rest of her life. I was about to turn five when   
he took a young and beautiful frille and my mother threw herself off the bluff over there.” Gjendine pointed at the bluff that Elizabeth had stood gazing out over the water, on the day of her arrival. 

“I am so sorry Gjendine, it must have been a terrible time.”

“I was too young to understand but it was hard on Fenrir and even Ragnhild who had grown very close to my mother. My father went into a deep grief that he never recovered from and ended his life a vile, bitter sort of man. Quarrelling and battling with anyone who could be persuaded to take him on. He grew the vast army of men you see here today but they have not had much to do since Fenrir negotiated the peace with Brage Haraldson, Carls father and that was how he ended up with Caroline. Taking her off her father’s hands were one of the prices he had to pay.”

“Well, he will be saving another father soon by the look of it. Let us retreat to play with the children. Much more uplifting than watching hopeful father’s exploiting their young daughter’s.” 

Elizabeth put on a brave face and after a while the children and their antics made her forget about her own worries for a few hours.   
Watching young boys playing with wooden shields and swords reminded her of her youth and battles fought with wooden sticks against the Lucas’ and Gouldings, even winning occasionally despite being a lot of sisters with only the one brother. 

The melancholy and homesickness got the better of her, she went to the place that gave her peace when she first came to Nidaros, the bluff.

Knowing some of its history had not changed its appeal but made her wary of the edge.   
She leaned cautiously forward to appraise the rocks below. The tide was out and the rocky bottom that had been covered by the sea were now above the surface. Elizabeth thought that it must have been a desperate woman that had jumped off the bluff, perhaps it was more to the story than the daughter had been told...  
Elizabeth felt constriction in her chest when she thought about adding frilles to the household but it did not make her want to fling herself off the bluff.

Elizabeth went back to the gathered crowds to look for her sister. There were men wrestling each other, competing for who could lift the heaviest stone while some were running between the main house and longhouse to see who were the fastest on their feet.  
Jane stood by a board game watching the game which Elizabeth recognised as her husband and Carl playing Hnefatafl.   
The game was of battle and strategy with white defenders in the middle, surrounding their king against the black attackers that were closing in on them from four sides.   
The white was outnumbered by the black but had the advantage of being in one united front. Where you could move your pieces were decided by throwing a dice.   
The Jarl had the white pieces and were doing a splendid job of defending himself against Carls army. 

“Jane? Can I borrow you for a moment or do you prefer to watch your husband?”

“You can...”

“I am so happy to see you looking so well, I was so anxious I had to leave before you were completely recovered.”

"I was fine Elizabeth, Caroline took care of me and I was up and about the next day.”

“That is wonderful. You are getting along with Caroline then?”

“Yes, she has been so accommodating. Showing me how to run the house and to do all the chores. She is so accomplished...”

“I am glad you have someone to rely on Jane, it must be most helpful.”

“Oh yes, I could not possibly have managed without Caroline, I would have been quite lost. Carl is very supportive as well but he is a man.”

“That he is.” 

Elizabeth wondered if he was as much a man as the Jarl or if he was a tad less of a man which would be preferable. She could not give Jane any ideas by enquiring though. 

Their privacy was broken by Caroline who were almost running with excitement.

“You must come, Jane, you as well Elizabeth there is such a commotion down at the longhouse. Gerda Jonsdottir has come to claim a divorce from her husband Sverre Gille but he is not even present. He is out on an expedition, probably raiding or loitering, what do I know but it is quite scandalous.”

“What is a divorce?” Elizabeth was loathe to admit her ignorance but until Gjendine had mentioned it in context with the Jarl, she had never heard of it.

“A means to end a marriage so you can be free to marry somebody else,” Caroline replied.

“Is that allowed?” Jane was shocked that something like that could be even thought of. 

“Of course, it is no use to be married if you cannot have children or the marriage is unhappy. Perhaps you should consider it Elizabeth. The Jarl seemed to have tired of you already by the amount of frilles he is considering to accept.”

“I was under the impression that it was the fathers offering their daughters more than a wish of their own.”

“The fathers do the negotiations but I doubt anyone would look upon a foot inside the Jarl’s chamber as any kind of punishment, quite the opposite I should say. You should know being his wife but he is perhaps not that interested in you... I have not seen the two of you together since we arrived this morning.” 

Elizabeth let the insinuation hang in the air as they were approaching the debacle and she was more curious than eager to defend herself against a lost cause.  
Gerda was standing before the Jarl, the goði and Carl, shouting from the top of her lungs. 

“I want a divorce, Sverre is gallivanting on the sea with Geir and we all know what they are up to. He is neglecting me and have not performed his duty towards me. I want a divorce!”

“How long has he been gone?” The Jarl enquired. 

“Two and a half years.”

“You know very well Gerda that he would have to be away for more than three years before you can claim a divorce.”

“But I am not satisfied and I have claimed divorce in the bedroom and outside the door, a public event is the last and I am done.”

“Have Sverre Gille been present at these previous occasions?”

“No,” young girl reluctantly admitted and the Jarl sighed.

“We cannot grant it when he is not present and he has not been gone the three years required. Have he ever hit you in the presence of witnesses?”

“No,” Gerda sighed as well. 

“Than you know the answer Gerda... Come back in the spring when the three years have passed and we will consider it anew.”

“What are the legit causes for divorce?” Elizabeth turned to Caroline. 

“Three years absence, beaten three times with witnesses present, unsatisfied sexually or that your husband had excessively or indiscreetly laid his thigh on another man. I do not suppose he has hit you much Elizabeth?” 

Elizabeth went quiet.

“Elizabeth, he is not abusing you are he?” Jane’s eyes were wide with worry. 

“Of course not Jane. I thought the question to ludicrous to deign with an answer.” 

Which was a lucky choice as her husband was standing right behind her, listening to every word.

“Are you contemplating to divorce me Elizabeth?” The Jarl stony expression did not bode well.

“Should I? You know the rules better than me...” Elizabeth refused to be cowed but as a precaution, she went to sleep in the loft above the loom. Just to be on the safe side.

The next morning her hiding place was discovered as Ragnhild found Elizabeth sleeping on a pile of old clothes and rags, covered by a woollen throw. The older lady shook her gently awake and sat down on the heap of clothing and gathered Elizabeth hands in hers.

“Why are you sleeping here child when you have a lovely warm room in the house?”

“I was assuming it might be cramped.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because it was the last time I said something stupid.”

“You are many things Elizabeth but stupid is not one of them...”

“Oh yes, I am. When I tell you, you will understand. You see, the Jarl...”

“Fenrir, his name is Fenrir Elizabeth why do you not use it.”

“I do not know. It does not come natural to me, he is the Jarl, not my husband, in so many ways that I have stopped to consider him as such. He is the Jarl and I am his thrall but I digress. He wanted to know if I wanted a divorce and I did not contradict him which is kind of ironic because the last time I was in trouble I did contradict him and he certainly did not appreciate that.”

“Do you want a divorce Elizabeth?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure.”

“Yes.”

“What would you feel if you never saw Fenrir again?”

“Thrilled?” Ragnhild chuckled lightly at her quipped answers.

“Oh, you are so young Elizabeth. Lovers quarrel all the time and it usually sort itself out before too much damage is done.”

“What if does not? What if I can never adjust to the Norse way, I hate the thralls that he brings to our chamber who by the bye are probably filled to the brim with new and beautiful frilles. Perhaps I will end up like the previous lady of the house. Flinging myself off the bluff in utter despair that my husband has gotten yet another frille?”

“You are not Anne, Elizabeth and it is a bit more to the story than a new frille. I guess Gjendine has filled you in but she is not aware of all the facts. She was spared to protect her tender heart but I can tell you some of it, I suppose. It was not really a secret...  
Fenrir’s father preferred men, he had a young thrall that he enjoyed and Anne being the daughter of an earl and a very delicate flower and deeply in love with her husband. Could not face the humiliation nor the heartbreak of watching her husband love a man. She took the cowards way out Elizabeth, I myself have never forgiven her. Even though I considered her my friend.”

“I do not believe it was cowardice, I have stood on the edge of that bluff and I cannot imagine that a coward would chose that option. No, it must have been utter despair that drove her to it.”

“That too Elizabeth, that too. Now, we have to get you changed and sorted out. It is the last day and I have a special thing in mind for your hair and gown today. It will cheer you up.”

“Do Fenrir know, the truth about his mother’s end?”

“Yes he does and that was not so hard Elizabeth, you called your husband by his name. The thralls and the frilles is just entertainment Elizabeth. It is the way of men and the sooner you accept it the sooner you will be happy. You are the lady of the house, the keeper of the keys and hopefully one day you will experience the joys of motherhood. It will make it all worth it, I promise you.”

“Do you have children Ragnhild?”

“No, I was never so blessed. I have Fenrir and Gjendine which I was so privileged to be allowed to cherish much as my own and I have loved every moment of it. It is no greater good in life than caring for the little ones. Regardless of who gave them birth.” 

“What happened to the thrall? The one that late Jarl...”

“He stayed until Darcy Erikson died, he was set free and left Nidaros a few days later. Never to be heard from again.”

“It was kind of the new Jarl, to set him free.”

“Oh, I do not know if it was kindness but he wanted the man gone and paid him handsomely to never return. Too many sad memories, I suppose...”

Elizabeth had much to ponder, she was not at all as certain as Ragnhild that all would be well nor that she had it in her to be content with what life had thrown at her.

***

The purple wool gown was finished, it looked exquisite with all the work that Ragnhild had put into it. She braided several strands of Elizabeth ‘s hair while leaving some loose with ribbons tied every five fingers. She put pale violet flowers in between and a large silver brooch was fastened in the back. The dark purple accentuated the paleness of her skin who looked almost ghostly.

“I believe you should sleep in your own bed tonight Elizabeth, I do believe that you are more than a little tired, judging by your complexion.” 

Today would be the last day of disablót in honour of to the god of gods Odin, the master of ecstasy, the god of wisdom, poetry, death, divination, magic, the chief of the Æsir and the king of Aasgard. The purpose was to secure a good year.

When Elizabeth entered the courtyard she was immediately asked to fetch a small chest that had been placed in her chamber.   
Elizabeth did as she was asked and brought the chest to the altar where the priest was waiting for her. She opened the chest to hand the content to the priest.   
As she took hold of the linen-wrapped package, she recognised it as horse's unmentionable that had been cut off the horse that had been sacrificed at her wedding.

Elizabeth swayed and fought to stay afoot while swallowing hard to force the bile back down her throat. By the time she let go of her macabre offering she had gone deathly pale while her hands were trembling.   
Fierce determination kept her from running from the scene and walk over to her husband’s side who sat on a throne that she could lean on discreetly.   
A mare was brought forward to be sacrificed and Elizabeth kept her eyes forward but stared blindly at nothing.   
When the blót was done and the priest had prayed for a good year, the guests started to take their leave. Many had a long day of travelling ahead of them and was eager to get as long as they could while there was still light. After seeing her guests off, she left gracefully and entered the main house, walked to her chamber and cried bitter tears.

Her husband came in soon after and put his hand on her shoulder to turn her towards him but she resisted.

“For the love of God, leave me alone.”

“I do not care for your God Elizabeth.”

“For the love of something you do care about then. Perhaps your thralls or your new frilles, I counted two new faces at the table. If they do not do it then perhaps Gjendine, Ragnhild, your ancestors, your Viking warriors, your horse, land or ships does, I do not care as long as you leave me alone.” 

Elizabeth had deliberately left out for the love if his Goods, they she could not stomach at the moment, not even for some long-awaited solitude. Elizabeth slept the rest of the day and the night in exhausted deep sleep.

“I care for you Elizabeth...” the Jarl whispered as he silently closed the door.


	7. The Winter

Chapter VII The Winter

Elizabeth awoke to a landscape covered in white. The frost had set in, alerting them that winter was coming.   
Elizabeth donned warm clothes and hurried outside while the rest of the house were still blissfully asleep. The frozen grass crackled under her feet as she walked to the bluff.

She looked up, bathing her face the in silver threaded moonlight. It seemed so surreal that the same celestial object could shine here, in the far north, simultaneously as her beloved Longbourn. On Charlotte, her friend back home that was more than seven years her senior She had taken the unruly little girl Elizabeth, under her protective wings and their friendship had evolved as Elizabeth grew into her years.   
It felt like a decade had past not months since she had last merrily said her goodbyes with a promise to bring her something from town...

Elizabeth wondered if John had finally taken the step to make her his bride, now that he had less sisters to provide for. She believed he loved her but Charlotte was four years his senior. He had hidden under the excuse that she was too old for him, wanting a young and fertile bride but their fathers had settled the matter. Their negotiations had spurred on the frantic husband seeking from their mother for her daughters.

Lady Lucas, Charlotte’s mother had questioned Longbourn’s ability to provide for so many unwed daughters which Elizabeth’s mother in return had taken as a grave insult, insinuating that her daughters were not eligible.   
Her reckoning were that if plain old Charlotte could marry, so could her beautiful offspring and she had set out on a mission that had met with little success until the Viking travail. 

It was not many eligible bachelors around Longbourn village, which is why the entire family had gone to town and not just John as usual. Uncle Gardiner had a wide range of associates that came with his trading business. Quantity, not quality was the allurement for a mother of five unwed daughters.

Elizabeth was learning what mattered in a marriage. One needed respect for security and regard for joy. To be loved and cherished...  
Elizabeth had more wealth than she had ever imagined, a grander house and a handsome, well-built husband but she could not find pleasure in any of it.   
The Jarl seemed to admire many but loved none, except perhaps his sister and Ragnhild.  
Elizabeth could not fault him for that. Gjendine and Ragnhild were the only light in the dreariness that surrounding her.   
Jane was as well but she was the picture of marital felicity and Elizabeth could not abide it at the moment. Carl’s attention to his wife were unmistakable, caring for her every need and showering his wife with compliments and praise, not a frille in sight.   
Elizabeth did not want to be flattered or praised like an angel but she needed to feel loved and the only thing she was feeling was her own insignificance, a feeling that was new and disturbing to her. 

***

The first couple of weeks after the Winter Nights Blót left Elizabeth tired and lethargic.   
The Gildi had exhausted her to a point where she struggled to recuperate and she was left listless and wane.   
A worried Gjendine tried to cheer her up and eventually came up with a chore that Elizabeth grew to love, despite not being as proficient as Gjendine. 

“Come with me Elizabeth, I want to show you something.”

Elizabeth followed her sister to the loom house and thought that if it was more sowing her sister had in mind, she had had quite her fill with readying her winter clothes. 

“Have you ever used a loom before?”

“No. We did not have one at Longbourn.” 

“It is easy enough to do, with a little practice...” 

Gjendine taught Elizabeth the loom who in return showed a knack for the use of colours and reproducing pictures from her mind, on to the weave. Gjendine was the proficient one at Nidaros and made beautiful pictures of their Gods that Elizabeth felt no urge to make.  
Elizabeth made landscapes and intricate patterns with a finish that belied her meagre practice and it became an escape from reality that she heartily appreciated. Occupying her mind and her hands with something that demanded her full attention and by the yule moon, she started to feel her energy returning. 

The Yule was another important blót to her new family, celebration was to commence three days after winter solstice with significantly less guests than had graced their land on the Winter Night blót. The only addition was to their own small group were Carl's family and she could hardly wait to see her sister.

Travelling at winter was a gruelling task through the cold and the snow. Not that they had much snow yet as Gjendine had explained that they did not get much snow here at the coast but inland it was another matter entirely.   
The blót was to secure the crops for the next year and a big boar was sacrificed and added to their feast.   
Jane, Carl and Caroline with their entourage of Vikings and thralls arrived to watch the boar end his life. Elizabeth, now familiar with what was coming, had learned to fade out and enter the mind of her imagination to get her through the ordeal. Staring vacantly into the air until the splattering of blood commenced which was now performed by none other than her husband and she escaped him and his birch branches easily enough, hiding behind his giggling frilles.   
She was left with much more time with her sister though as Caroline was much occupied with toadying to the Jarl, in fierce competition with the frilles.

“Elizabeth, I have a matter of importance to discuss with you, may we have some privacy?”

Elizabeth lead Jane out of doors to show her the magnificent cliff that dropped into the ocean that lapped upon its foot.

“I am with child.”

“Congratulations Jane!” Elizabeth hugged her sister fiercely. “How wonderful, how can you tell?”

“My monthly bleedings has stopped but I cannot be certain until I feel the babe move, I am quietly confident as I have been sick in the mornings and that is a sign another sign.”

“Carl must be thrilled, he is so solicitous towards you, a babe will only add to his accomplishments as a husband, I am sure.”

“Yes, he is everything a husband should be. Kind, generous and amiable to a fault.”

“And very handsome, as a husband ought to be if he can help it. No wonder you are expecting a babe so soon.” Elizabeth snickered at her sister who slapped her arm in mock reproach. 

“You have a decent looking husband yourself Elizabeth I wonder if you do not have an announcement of your own? You are looking frightfully pale.”

“No, no I have not been sick in the mornings and you know I am never ill Jane, I am just a bit fatigued. Must be the lack of light here in the winter. Come, I will show you what I have been up to lately, you might be surprised by the patience I have mustered with this new occupation of mine.” 

Elizabeth deliberately left out the bleedings that had stopped since her wedding night. She was certain that something inside her had broken judging by the amount of blood she had shed on that occasion and the thought that she would never have any children had crept into her mind and festered. 

Elizabeth showed Jane her weaves and she was adequately blown away by her sister’s creations, particularly one of Longbourn that she was gifted as token of their sisterly affection and promised in return to give it a prominent place in their house.

When the party from Lade left after a fortnight of amicable companionship, Elizabeth felt invigorated and much more herself. She would be forever grateful to Jane for not bringing up the two new additions in her household that she pretended not existed, most of the time...  
She found a new pleasure in learning to read runer which Gjendine was teaching her. It seemed like it was nothing that her young sister could not do, she was the epitome of knowledge and accomplishments. 

A month passed and Elizabeth was having strange sensations in her stomach, it worried her as she was never sick and had pronounced the fact often enough to worry if fate was throwing her an off-kilter for proclaiming it so loudly. She found Ragnhild who she felt was the most likely source of information on Norse maladies. 

“Ragnhild, may I have a word with you in private?”

“Of course, my child. What has put that frown between your beautiful brows?”

“I am wondering if I am getting sick?” Elizabeth was studying her shoes as it was a tender subject for her.

“What ails you Elizabeth? You look healthy enough...”

“I have these strange sensations in my stomach, like a butterfly or something is caught inside it.”

“That is the babe Elizabeth.”

“Babe?”

“Yes, the child you are carrying beneath your breast. Do not tell me you did not know...” Ragnhild looked at her quizzically.

“No, that cannot be right. You see, I bled profusely on my wedding night. Something must have broken and I do not believe that I can beget a child. I have not been sick in the mornings...”

“Oh, you are so young Elizabeth. Of course, you are with child, not everyone gets sick in the morning. Some are just fatigued like you have been these past months. You are starting to show a little and in a few weeks there will be no doubt.”

“Really?” Hope was blooming in Elizabeth’s breast, hope and a sliver of happiness that wrapped around her heart.

“I am absolutely certain, there is no doubt in my mind.”

The snow came with a biting coldness. They staved it off by walking on wooden boards tied under their shoes that Gjendine referred to as skies.   
The days were growing a bit longer and a tarn nearby had frozen solid.   
Gjendine taught Elizabeth to glide across the ice with cow bones tied under her shoes. It was a steep learning curve and by nightfall, her bottom was blue and purple after connecting forcefully with the ice before she got the knack of it.   
It was much fun though and Elizabeth laughed at herself for being so graceless although it irked her that the Jarl floated around on the ice with confident elegance.   
Not once offering to aid her person when she lay on the ice in an awkward heap of limbs.   
He did, however, show her mercy that night, as she lay on her stomach, sporting a bruised behind. 

Eventually, the snow started to melt away as a contrast to Elizabeth's growing belly. The air warmed up and allowed for the doors to be left open, to air out some of the smoke that lei heavy in the air. The peep-holes were filled up with wool to prevent draft from the chilly winter days.


	8. The Spring

Chapter VIII The Spring 

With spring came the first flowers and Elizabeth were picking the stubborn little yellow ones that were fighting their way up towards the sun when a rider in great speed entered the courtyard.  
Shouting ensued, followed by furious activity. Horses were brought out of the stables and saddled ready for departure. The Jarl barked out orders that were efficiently performed.   
Lade were under attack by what were described as Berserkers which meant nothing to Elizabeth but she supposed they were another clan.

Five men were chosen to stay at home with the ladies which did not seem like much to Elizabeth until she laid eyes on one of them. A giant of monstrous proportions that even towered over her enormous husband.   
Red beard and hair that had obviously been black originally but had been dyed with strong lye. The effect was more menacing than flattering and Elizabeth knew a moment of thankfulness that the Jarl were not equally vain.   
Thormod was the giant's name and he seemed pleasant enough for a Viking and strong enough to take on an army by himself. The four other men were not as impressive as Thormod but strong and healthy in their own way.  
Elizabeth tried fruitlessly to convince her husband to let her go with them to see to her pregnant sister but he was having none of it, pointing out her own protruding belly as an excuse. 

The Vikings left in a cloud of dust and were gone. Uncomfortable silence reigned the residents of Nidaros, like the calm before a storm.   
Gjendine paced the floor while Elizabeth stood staring out of one of the peep-holes with the size of head of kale that had been made to allow some light into an otherwise darkened room, worrying her lips, the frilles had made themselves scarce sensing the disgust emanating from the lady of the house.   
The second day transpired much the same as the first when Elizabeth’s constant vigilance at the peep-hole showed a lone rider heading their way. She did not recognise him but his hair was as white as Gjendine’s.   
As he was closing in Elizabeth’s stomach flopped which she accounted as the babe moving about but was more likely from the fact that he was a very handsome man.   
Carl was handsome in a slightly rugged sort of way while her husband was a manly man, not particularly handsome but he had a presence that made it impossible, not to pay him attention.   
The man approaching on white steed was drop-dead gorgeous. Elizabeth stood rooted to the spot while Gjendine let out a piercing scream and ran out the door.  
Elizabeth startled but watched Gjendine run towards the visitor with and flung herself in his arms the second his feet touched the ground. He kissed her full on the mouth which made Gjendine laugh gaily while slapping his arm coquettishly. Elizabeth looked to Ragnhild for guidance, she was frowning. 

“Who is that?”

“That is Geir the Wicked and make no mistake. He earned that name fair and square, his coming here can mean nothing but trouble, mark my words Elizabeth do not fall under the spell that a pretty face can bestow. The man is rotten to the core of his soul.”

Elizabeth watched as the Viking, or so she assumed, greeted the guards at the door with familiarity and he was granted entrance to their abode without questioning.   
Elizabeth braised herself and welcomed the newcomer to Nidaros asking for his purpose.

“Fenrir sent me, he wanted to make sure that his ladies were taken care of.” 

Although Elizabeth had enquired in Norse, he answered her in fluent English. ‘Who was this man that were on friendly terms with the Vikings, adored by Gjendine and despised by Ragnhild?’ Elizabeth decided to judge for herself. 

Geir settled in comfortably in the high chair that was usually reserved for the Jarl. It made Elizabeth weary as the beautiful chair carved with a wolf-head on top and one for each leg was the Jarl’s most prized possession and he let no other man sit in it. It did take her mind off her worries for Jane for a spell and for that she was grateful.  
They chatted happily as amongst friends. Gjendine related all the happenings that had occurred while Geir had been gone these last five years while he regaled them with tales of his expeditions in faraway lands and amused them with little anecdotes of Gjendine’s childhood. He talked of Fenrir as a childhood playmate but something he mentioned made Elizabeth suspect he had in fact been a thrall at Nidaros.   
By the time the evening wore on and it was time to tuck in, she was glad that Gjendine had taken up sleeping with Elizabeth’s in her chamber as a way of comfort while Fenrir was fighting off an unknown enemy. The girl seemed utterly infatuated with the newcomer which made Elizabeth conscious of her responsibility in caring for her in the brother’s absence.   
Over the next days, he did nothing she could put her finger on except for being overly familiar and a little too comfortable in another mans home. 

On the fifth day, the Vikings returned. Wounded were hanging over their horses' backs and Ragnhild and all the other ladies came running to tend the injured. Elizabeth turned to follow her but were called back by the Jarl who slid of his horse with a bouquet of violets that Elizabeth suspected he was going to offer her but he strode towards her and slapped her in the face with it. Elizabeth stood stock still and counted ONE in her mind.

“My, how the mighty have fallen, fallen under the spell of love Fenrir? Who would have thought you had it in you.” The Jarl froze and locked eyes with Elizabeth. 

“How long has he been at Nidaros?”

“Three days.”

“How did he get in?”

“The guards let him in, they seemed familiar with him.”

“Has he seen my sister?”

“Yes, they seemed on friendly enough terms. He told us that you had sent him to take care of your ladies but he settled for only the three that reside in the main house.”

“How friendly?”

“Nothing to worry about, I am sure. She has been with me every day .”

“I left her under your protection with strict instructions of keeping an eye on her at every moment. Leaving her unprotected all night is not what I ordered you to do.” 

His voice had taken on a harsh tone that emphasised his words which in turn raised Elizabeth’s ire.

“She has slept in my chamber, every night since you left.” Elizabeth took a step forward and lowered her voice as to not be overheard. Face to chest but she bent her neck backwards to take hold of his glaring eyes with her own dagger-shooting ones.

“She was worried about her brother that left for battle. Why, quite escape me at the moment.”

The Jarl held her glare and searched the depth of her eyes.

“Raise your sword.”

“I do not have one,” Elizabeth countered.

“Geir, raise your sword.”

“Perhaps I do not want to.” The intruder remarked nonchalantly. 

“Make no mistake, I will run you through with or without your sword. I just want to play with you a little before the blessed event happens.”

The Jarl had faced his wife during the entire exchange, the rustling from behind made him turn towards his enemy.

Geir searched his pockets and put something in his mouth that he washed down with the contents of his water pouch. It took only moments before his teeth started to clatter and his countenance turned an alarming shade of purple and he charged towards Elizabeth. 

Only the quickness of mind by the giant Thormod saved her from being run over as he grabbed hold of her and hauled her out of harms way.  
Geir acted crazed and took a bite of his wooden shield before turning his attack towards the Jarl.  
Gjendine was standing in a haze by the entrance and Elizabeth walked hastily to her and dragged her inside and out of sight of the fierce fight that were unfolding on their doorstep. Gjendine cried bitter tears in worry for both her brother and her childhood friend. 

“I think I am in love with him Elizabeth, he is so handsome. My brother will not kill him, will he? Perhaps I should try to stop him...”

“Beauty fades but dumb is forever.” Elizabeth thought out loud although she had mostly herself in mind.

“I do not know what your brother has in mind Gjendine but I am quite certain that neither you nor I will have anything to say in the matter. To address the other matter, I believe that appearance is not much to go by before offering your heart Gjendine, it is what is in his heart that matters and of that we know very little.”

“I have known him all my life Elizabeth, it is only you that does not know him.

“You where a child of ten and two when he left... The eyes of a child will hide what the eyes of an adult will see. We know nothing of him but what he has told.”

Elizabeth felt that her presence was unwanted but she could not leave Gjendine on her own, her husband would probably skin her alive if she did, quite literally.   
Thormod had followed her inside and she suspected that she was his special assignment enforced by her husband. 

“Thormod! How do you know Geir the Wicked?” 

“Never heard of the chap before he turned up on your doorstep. Trym knew him well and vouched for him as an old family friend.”

“How long have you been at Nidaros Thormod?”

“Three years, housewife.” They spoke in Norse as Thormod did not speak a word of English, neither did any of the other Vikings in their employ. 

“I trust you Thormod, to guard Gjendine. Do not let her out of your sight and by no means do you let her leave this room, without the Jarl’s direct orders.”

“I am guarding you.”

“And I am commanding you to guard my sister. I am needed to tend the injured, I cannot delay any longer.”

“Are you a Volva?” Gjendine snorted at Thormod’s question. 

“No probably not as I have no idea what that is. Will you guard Gjendine?”

“With my life,” he stated matter-of-factly and Elizabeth believed him

Hastening out the door to find wounds to tend, she saw the Jarl drive his sword through the heart of a frothing Geir the Wicked. The ruthlessness made her see her husband in a true light as the fierce warrior he was. 

The Jarl had sustained a laceration to his arm that made Elizabeth gasp and run towards him with every intention to tend it but he waved her off callously.  
Elizabeth tried another attempt but got such a cold chastisement for leaving his sister unattended that Elizabeth left without assuring him she had seen to the matter. 

She entered the accommodations of the Vikings and covered wounds with poultice, sew together the more severe cuts and helped align broken limbs.   
Most of the wounded were young lads of perhaps fourteen and fifteen, coming home from their first battle with wounds to brag about and make up stories about, many new lessons learned the hard way if they lived to utilize them.   
She was informed that the current condition of her sister was excellent, to her great relief. 

Lade had been attacked by a group of crazed Berserkers which Elizabeth had heard nothing about but she was regaled with numerous stories more bestial and grotesque than she could have ever imagined. Outlaws, living in the woods in groups of twelve, they were rumoured to change into bears as they undressed before battle. With only a loincloth, the frothing savages attacked anyone or anything that came before them, even if it were one of their own.   
The latter had eventually saved Lade. The leader had left and the remaining warriors had turned on each other. The head of the pack had been languishing at Nidaros, in waiting for his men to bring him the good news of victory and take over Nidaros by marrying the dead Jarl’s sister. He had not known that the Jarl had married and had a possible heir on the way.

Caroline’s fate were less certain. She had vanished but as there were only ten dead Berserkers at Lade, with their leader dead at Nidaros which made account for eleven Berserkers. They were known to operate in groups of twelve. The possibility of one escaping with Caroline were not ruled out...   
A search party were sent out from Lade but they found no trace of her and returned unsuccessful, a few weeks later.

By the course of the next seven days, they lost three of the young lads to infection and fever while those who lived passed those first crucial days seemed to be on the mend.   
Elizabeth worked tirelessly with the injured until her back ached and her arms were sore from exhaustion. It had the added benefit of avoiding the presence of her husband who was tended by his sister in the main house. He had been stitched up by Ragnhild and for some unexplainable reason that had stung Elizabeth but she made up her mind that if he did not want her aid, she would offer it to the ones who appreciated it.   
Her dedication had improved her esteem among the residents of Nidaros and for that she was quietly thankful.   
Gjendine, on the other hand, had distanced herself from her.  
She was under the misapprehension that the Jarl had killed Geir to defend Elizabeth which was probably a result of the rendition she had gleaned from Thormod and deliberate selective memory. She turned to her brother’s new frilles for comfort which Elizabeth had a hard time swallowing.


	9. The Summer

Chapter IX The summer

Summer brought warmth to the air and Elizabeth's laying in was approaching which happened to coincide with the Summer Day Blót for victory.   
The Nidaros Vikings were invited to Fröyland which was several days away by ship but the chieftain of Fröyland was rich, powerful and an important ally to Nidaros and Lade. Ragnhild offered to stay at home with Elizabeth. She needed someone she trusted and although she had learned Norse, she felt more comfortable with an English speaking lady at hand. 

Jane had more than a month to go so she was braving the rugged seas with her husband on Anne, the sturdiest ship that the Jarl of Nidaros owned. The Busse was built for carrying large cargo but it was not as fast as the battleships and lay heavier in the water. The only demand Elizabeth had made before they left was that her husband’s frilles would accompany him. She had no right to feel so disgusted by their presence but she did none the less. 

“You look flushed Elizabeth, come with me.” 

The Jarl dragged his heavily pregnant wife out the door.   
It was the evening before their departure, a hot summer night with crickets singing and mosquitos humming in the air.

“Where are you taking me?”

Elizabeth, feeling a little miffed, did not get any answers as she waddled in her bloated state over tussocks and blueberry bushes.  
Her ankles and calves got scratched and her mood was plummeting when they reached the tarn they had skated on in the winter.  
The Jarl removed his clothes, Elizabeth tried hard not to appear ogling while ogling. The Jarl was unfazed. When Elizabeth made no effort in removing hers, he undressed her. Elizabeth looked around pensively. 

“Someone might see us...”

“Not if we are in the water,” the Jarl referred to the thick bushes that were surrounding the tarn.

“The water will be too cold Fenrir.”

“No, the tarn is shallow and heats much quicker than the fjord.” 

The Jarl ran into the water and disappeared under the surface. ‘Very shallow indeed,’ Elizabeth thought wryly to herself.  
The Jarl resurfaced in the middle of the tarn and stood up. The water reached up to his chest.

“Are you coming Elizabeth or do I need to carry you in and drop you at my leisure?” 

The Jarl wriggled his eyebrows. Elizabeth huffed and tentatively dipped her toes in the water. It was refreshing but not as cold as she feared and she braved the chilly water until it reached her knees. They proved to be a little painful to surpass but the Jarl was approaching and Elizabeth strode to where the water reached her belly and gasped at the cold touch. 

“You might as well plunge underneath Elizabeth and get it over with, instead of torturing yourself with this slow pace.”

“I like the slow pace. In fact, it seems to be my only speed these days.” 

Nearing the end of her pregnancy, she was not particularly large but the heat was excruciating as it seemed like she had a fire pit, not a babe in her stomach. It slowed her down and made her lethargic and tired.  
The Jarl was drawing dangerously close, Elizabeth decided to take her fate into her own hands and plummeted beneath the surface. The shock to her body sent frissons down her back and she swam to get warmth back into her bones. Her body adjusted to the cold as she was yanked above the surface. 

“Why did you do that?”

“I thought you were drowning,” the Jarl admitted a little shamefaced but he did not let her go.

“I can swim, we had a pond at Longbourn. Although I usually swam in my chemise.”

“Must have been awkward, to swim in your chemise?” The Jarl pointed out while caressing her belly. He lay her in the water on her back and laughed heartily. 

“What!”

“You look like a walrus, all belly no limbs.” Elizabeth trashed around in the water to get to an upraised position. Not at all, amused.

“I am sorry Elizabeth, I should not have said that nor should I have laughed at you... Come here.”   
The Jarl grabbed the hand of the retreating Elizabeth and hauled her to his chest. Snuck one arm around her waist and clutched her to him while his other hand was brushing away the wet strands of hair that were plastered to her face.

“Your pout is adorable Elizabeth, makes me want to kissyr hana.” The ice-blue eyes that was searching her green ones made Elizabeth tremble.

“You are cold.”

‘Not particularly,’ Elizabeth thought but chose not to voice the opinion which might prohibit her journey back to dry land but the Jarl did not move. 

He wrapped her in his hot body, captured her lips and delved in. His hands roamed to her hindquarters and slid her up his torso. Her legs involuntarily enveloped his waist, crushing her belly between them. He lowered her onto him and let her back, down into the water, half floating and half anchored to him. Sturdy hands kept her afloat while his hips worked, eyes fixed on their junction, water slushing around them. Elizabeth flailed her arms to keep her head above the surface although she did not strictly need to, she was securely held in place by arms that would not let her go.   
She relaxed and bent her head back to let her hair flow in the water when he suddenly retreated, sat down on his knees, let one of his hands go and pushed it under her back. With one massive hand, he kept her afloat while he tasted her core with languid sweeps of his tongue. Elizabeth immediately tried to push him away but he grabbed her hands and held them tight. She could feel his smirk before he suckled her, hard and Elizabeth dropped off the side of the earth.   
The Jarl hoisted her up, speared her while his hips buckled frantically.   
Elizabeth felt wave after wave of ecstasy wash over her while watching the Jarl’s half-open mouth. His eyes took on a strained look when his body went rigid and he grunted into her ear as he clutched her to him. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on his shoulders. 

“Can you walk?”

“No.”

He chuckled, lowered all but their heads under the surface and floated on his back with a limp Elizabeth draped over his chest.

***

Elizabeth saw the travellers off, Thormod at her side as her pronounced defender.   
They made an awkward pair, standing at the dock waving goodbye to the ship.   
The giant in the middle with two tiny women at each side, the top of their heads reaching him slightly above the waist. One slim and grey-haired lady, the other lady sported a waist heavy with child and chestnut hair that sparkled with red in the summer sun. 

They would be gone a couple of weeks and Elizabeth ambled leisurely back to the house when the ship had disappeared behind the cliffs. A welcome respite from a strained marriage with more people involved than Elizabeth cared for and a withdrawn sister.

A week passed with nothing of significance happening at Nidaros, the days were spent in leisurely pursuits.   
Elizabeth braided flowers and made herself a crown, goofing around when a ship rounded the cliff heading in their direction.   
Elizabeth called for Thormod as Ragnhild was out on the moors, gathering flowers they used to dye wool.   
Elizabeth met the ship at the port. Initially, she had thought it might be the Jarl coming back for the birth but the sail on this ship was not red and as they grew closer, she noticed it was filled with English soldiers.

“Where is my cousin?” A burly looking man with a deep baritone voice boomed over the waters. 

“Who are you?”

“I might ask you the same question.”

“ I am Elizabeth Thomasdottir of Nidaros.”

“The maiden krans looks a little out of place.” Elizabeth had totally forgot the flowers she braided and put on her head.

“It is not a krans, it is just some flowers that I have braided for fun. I am a married lady.”

“Yes and that is the interesting bit, who did you say was your husband?”

“I didn’t. I am the Jarl’s wife.”

“Fenrir Darcyson, the Jarl of Nidaros?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm, my aunt Catherine will not be pleased...”

“Your aunt Catherine can speak for herself, let me through so I can get a good look at the imposter.” 

A rotund grey-haired lady ploughed her way to the bow. Her eyes grew wide as she took in Elizabeth’s extended belly.

“How long have you supposedly been married to my nephew?”

“We married a fortnight before Michaelmas of last year.” 

“Where is my nephew? I want to speak to him immediately.”

“He is at Summer Days Blót in Fröyland, you are welcome to see him there. It is a few days journey at sea in that direction.” She pointed the way they had just arrived.

“I will do no such thing, gallivanting around this heathen land. He must come to me! When do you expect him to be back?”

“I do not expect him for another week but it is difficult to say exactly. Things may come up that will delay their journey.”

“Where are you from, who is your father and mother.”

“I come from Longbourn a modest estate, half a days journey from London.”

“You are English?” 

The matron seemed surprised and Elizabeth did not bother to confirm the obvious.   
They docked the ship and entered land.   
Thormod immediately moved in front of Elizabeth as her personal human shield. He could not be persuaded to move from his protective position in between Elizabeth and their guests with pleading nor threats. Elizabeth gave up and continued chatting with the English soldier through the body of her protector.

By nightfall, Elizabeth had back pain that would not relent even when she lay down on her bed. A night of restless sleep followed and by morning she was pretty sure her babe was coming. She dressed and told Ragnhild that they might be welcoming a new addition to their party, by the end of the day.   
The pain although regular was not exceedingly painful so Elizabeth expected them to grow much worse before the relief came and she was right...  
Come evening she was in excruciating pain and were no longer able to walk more than a few steps between the pains. Elizabeth had not missed her mother much since her departure from London but she would dearly have wanted her near on this occasion. 

In the middle of the night, a baby girl was born. Elizabeth gasped as she looked into the eyes of her firstborn, eying her back was red-haired beauty with one emerald green eye like her mother and one eye had the colour of blue ice, like her father. Elizabeth thought she was the most beautiful creature she had ever beheld, even her husband’s cold heart would surely melt, gazing into his daughter’s eyes.   
Exhausted, sleep claimed her and the sun stood high in the sky before she awoke.

Elizabeth fed her baby and wrapped her in cloth to show her off to her newfound family.   
Richard Fitzwilliam greeted her jovially and offered his congratulations as he looked at the new-born, his countenance grew pensive.

“What!” Elizabeth exclaimed. 

“She has unusual eyes.”

“Yes they are beautiful, do you not think.”

“Yes.” Richard’s admitted reluctantly. The crevice between his brows, deepening.

“Tell me, I know there is something wrong. Do you think she is blind?”

“No. I have no knowledge of her sight but I wonder if you are aware of the Vikings tradition when a female offspring is born... I was here when Gjendine was born and it was the talk of the village.”

“No, I have never heard of anything special. What kind of ritual does it involve?”

“When Fenrir comes back you must put the girl on his knee and he will choose to acknowledge her or not.”

“What happens if he does not?” Elizabeth whispered.

“She will be exposed of.”

“He would kill her?” Elizabeth's voice was filled with dread.

“No, they would put her out in the woods to fend for herself.”

“But, but she is just a babe she would not survive on her own.”

“No...” 

“What if she had been a boy?”

“He would have been less likely to be put out but it could happen if he was born with defects.”

“Why would they do such a thing?”

“I do not know but females are expensive to raise and the dowry may prove costly.”

“But Nidaros does not suffer from financial strain...”

“No, but Fenrir might believe there is something wrong with her when he sees those eyes...”

Elizabeth felt like she had been drenched in a bucket of ice-cold water. Her heart was thundering in her ears and she felt faint. Slumping down on a chair with her precious babe in her arms, she heard nothing of the conversation that surrounded her as her mind was spinning around one single topic, how to escape her husband. The solution was as simple as it was brilliant.


	10. The Jarl of Nidaros

Chapter X The Jarl of Nidaros 

Elizabeth had calmed herself considerably by the time that the Jarl’s ship was spotted rounding the cliff, nine days later.  
She kept herself in the background and went unnoticed by the boisterous greetings they received from their English cousin.   
The Jarl and the soldier hugged each other and slapped each other’s backs with a resonating sound. The Jarl laughed and boxed his cousin in the arm and got a push back that almost had him toppling over.   
Gjendine was no less thrilled and flung herself around her cousin’s neck much, in the same manner, she had greeted Geir, sanse the kiss.  
Their aunt was waiting by the door and Elizabeth slipped passed her with the babe tucked securely in the crook of her arm. She wished she could hide her away but there was no place she would be safe.

Lady Catherine’s voice was floating into her sanctuary which meant they were getting close.

“Nephew, I have come to make you an offer you cannot refuse. I have decided to give you Rosings Castle, as soon as you are wedded to my daughter.   
Leave this God-forsaken place and come home to the kingdom of Anglo-Saxon with me, your mother would have wanted you to. We will take Gjendine with us of course, such a beautiful girl, I will have her married in a few weeks.”

“I am sorry aunt but I am already married so I cannot oblige you.”

“Nonsense and balderdash Fitzwilliam. I have met the girl and she is nobody of importance, just an insignificant squire's daughter from the backwaters of London.   
You are the grandson of an earl, leave her here to fend for herself.   
Serves her right for trying to connect herself above her station. It is not as the marriage had any validity anyhow, it was not blessed by a priest or conducted in a church. I am quite certain it is invalid.”

“Not to me aunt, where is my wife?”

“I am here.” Elizabeth rose from her seated position and squeezed the babe firmly to her chest, making sure that her face could not be seen.

“Son or daughter?” 

Elizabeth drew in deep fortifying breath before meeting his questioning gaze.

“A daughter.” 

The Jarl sat down on his high chair and waved Elizabeth towards him. She did not budge.

“May I see the child Elizabeth.”

“No,” Elizabeth replied firmly.

The Jarl looked at Thormod and expected him to understand his meaning. When Thormod made no move he deigned himself to ask.

“Bring me my child Thormod.”

“No,” the giant replied calmly.

“Are you defying my expressed orders Thormod? It will have dire consequences for you.”

“Not as I see it. You told me to protect Elizabeth against anyone that might cause her harm and the lady said no.” 

The Jarl sighed and got up from his chair and walked towards Elizabeth, Thormod was fulfilling his orders a tad to literally, he would address that later with less company. Elizabeth staggered backwards until she hit the wall.

“ I want a divorce,” Elizabeth claimed in a calm voice.

“The child stays with the mother’s family and I am taking her with me back to the Kingdom of the Anglo-Saxons.”

“You have no grounds for claiming a divorce.”

“Sordinn,” she spat to his face. 

His hand came down hard on her face, his eyes blazing in fury.

“TWO,” Elizabeth claimed loudly, raising two fingers in the air while Ragnhild whispered fervently in her ear. The distractions Ragnhild provided gave the Jarl his awaited opportunity and he snatched the child from Elizabeth’s arms and held the babe high up in air, out of Elizabeth’s reach. Elizabeth hands flew to her mouth while her eyes went wide with fear.

“I am sorry, I did not know what it meant, I am so sorry, you must believe me I mean, I knew it was an insult but...” 

The Jarl was unmoved by her pleading.

“What did you mean by two Elizabeth.”

“It was the second time you hit me, by the third blow that is witnessed, I am free.”

“I have never hit you before!” The Jarl roared with rage.

“Yes, you have. You slapped me in the face with the violets when you came home from the Berserkers attack on Lade.”

“I was wooing you!”

“That was wooing? What happened to hand me the flowers to hold and to admire? Why slap them in my face? A compliment or pretty verse would have gone a long way in that direction if wooing were on your mind, I would have settled for you noticing my existence outside of our chamber or just the decency of not flaunting your thralls and frilles in front of me in my own chamber would have been highly appreciated. You have done nothing but prove my insignificance in your life.   
I am not letting you put my daughter out to fend for herself. I do not understand why you do not want me to divorce you. You can marry one of your new frilles or someone else that you actually like. All I ask is to keep my child. I love her, I am a woman I can love...” 

Elizabeth paused to draw breath.

“What is a frille?” The grating voice of lady Catherine interjected. 

“It is a sort of live in brothel, young girls that their father wants to get rid of and for some reason cannot get married the usual way. They provide the kind of intimate services that should be reserved for a husband and his wife while the father secures his family a rich ally. The richer you are the more frilles you can afford to flaunt to all and sundry.”

“You keep mistresses that your wife encounter in her own chamber, how appalling. My daughter will never marry such a disgrace. Your mother would have been ashamed of you but perhaps you resemble your heathen father more than I would have thought. Richard, we are leaving, there is nothing for us here. Such a waste of time and effort. I take no leave of you nephew, you deserve no such condescension.” 

Lady Catherine floated out of the room, Richard did not follow.

“She will understand eventually that we cannot leave while the tide is out and come back to taunt us.   
I say we settle this other nasty business while she is out of earshot.   
Tell me, what does sordinn mean? And by no means let me detain you from your quarrel, I have not been so well entertained in as long as I can remember. Do go on.” 

Elizabeth was trying to grasp something from far back of her mind, a memory that was hiding just out of reach.

“You,” she pointed at the Jarl. 

“You called my brother... You did that to my brother?” 

The horror that had infused Elizabeth’s countenance was replaced by unmitigated fury and she ran to the Jarl her fists hammering at his chest. The Jarl had no way of defending himself against her onslaught with the babe hanging in his arms above his head. He looked up and was arrested by the bewitching eyes of his daughter. He turned his back towards Elizabeth who continued relentlessly, to batter his back. 

The Jarl paid her no mind and sat down with his daughter on his lap. Her feet against his stomach, facing towards him as she lay in his arms. When Elizabeth had exhausted herself, he asked quietly.

“What is her name.”

“Embla. I thought it fitting that as my firstborn she should be named after the first female that grazed the earth.”

“She is my firstborn too.”

“Really, I would have guessed you had fathered many a child.”

“No... Perhaps you do not know me as well as you think.”

“I guess it is hard to know someone you never talk to but I know what I saw. I could smell her on you for heavens sake. What would you think if you entered our chamber and a stark naked thrall was in my bed? Oh nice, he is warming my bed for me?”

“She was offering, I was declining. She was never in the bed though...” Elizabeth snorted and looked around. All the other’s had left the room, except for Richard but she had not even noticed. Too caught up in the fight with her husband.

“It does not matter... I cannot live like this, I cannot live with a man that needs other women, I need to be loved which you stated yourself was out of your capabilities and I need a safe place to raise my child. Where she cannot be left to die by her own father.”

“I would never do that to a child of mine Elizabeth.”

“Perhaps not but as you said, I do not know you very well but I cannot forgive you for defiling my brother, I just cannot.”

“It was not me...”

“But you said it was you! Back in Anglo-Saxon.”

“I walked in on him with another man, playing the passive part of it. The man he was submitting himself to, was one of my warriors so I claimed him as my thrall. That is how it is here if you let a man penetrate you, you lose your freedom and you are no longer considered a man. He turned on me by claiming I was attacking London and came back with a few men that my men defeated with little effort. He was captured and I planned to take him back with me either to let him work on my land or sell him if I got the right price.   
He begged me to take his sister in lieu of himself, a sister he claimed to have exceptional beauty and a calm temper. I humoured him more for the fun of declining and I was about to when I spotted your emerald green eyes. I made Caroline let down your hair and I changed my mind.”

“Why?”

“I was attracted to you. I even paid your sister’s dowry so she could travel with you as your father did not have the means...”

An incredulous snort escaped Elizabeth who stood uncomprehensive in the middle of the room. Her fingers worrying her lips while her eyes flickered from side to side, trying to apprehend what she had just been told.

“Elizabeth... I cannot force you to stay but if you chose to leave... I cannot let you take Embla with you. It is not because I want to be cruel, she is my child and I cannot let her go.”

“If I stay, will you promise me something?”

“What.”

“Will you swear on all that is sacred to you that none of my daughters will be put out, even if I deliver you five daughters and no sons?”

“Yes.”

“I need you to promise me one more thing Fitzwilliam. You must swear that you will not give any of our daughters away to become someone’s frille. It is even more degrading to be a frille than it is to be a wife proven inadequate by the presence of a one, I do not wish the degradation on any of my daughters.”

“They will be daughters of the Jarl to king Harald Hairfair, they will never be frilles Elizabeth. Any daughters of ours will be highly sought after as wives.”

“Oh, I did not know that.”

Ragnhild ended their argument by entering the room with a bowl of water while she tentatively approached the Jarl.

“She has survived the nine nights. She needs the name-fastening.”

The Jarl made the sign of the hammer and dipped his hand in the water which he drizzled over the babes head.   
Embla startled but the wail that Elizabeth expected, did not come.   
The Jarl took off one of his gold chains and draped around his daughter’s neck.   
Gjendine, who had re-entered the room unnoticed when the shouting died out, took off a gold bracelet in the shape of a serpentine and lei it on Embla’s stomach.   
Ragnhild took one of her silver hair beads and did the same. Elizabeth did not understand what was happening but took off her silver hairpin and added it to the growing pile of jewellery on her daughter’s stomach.

“Send a rider to Lade, we are having a feast tonight.” The Jarl commanded.

The babe was growing restless in his lap and her tongue was seeking while her head moved from side to side. Elizabeth took the babe from her father and went to her chamber to put her babe to her breast. The Jarl followed them and sat in the chair by their side watching the babe suckling greedily.

“She is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld.”

“Yes, she is.”

Mother and child fell asleep on the bed and the Jarl left in search for his cousin, he found him where he had left him, deep in thought. 

“I hope you plan to stay now that you have taken the journey hither?”

”Yes, I planned to stay a month if I am welcome? Aunt Catherine funded the journey but I am sure we can persuade her to stay when her ruffled feathers has calmed down.”

“She came here to force me to marry Anne?”

“Yes.”

“She does not know me very well.”

“No, but neither does your wife. There is a story behind all this, tell me...”

Ragnhild interrupted them with food and drink that was not unwelcome to either traveller.

“When was the child born Ragnhild?”

“Ten days ago.”

“How was the birth?”

“Long and hard but no troubles out of the ordinary. In my experience, the slow pace over a longer period of time, let her body adapt and prepare more fully and prohibited injury because she did not even tare. She did well...”

“Good.”

Ragnhild left the men to themselves, tending to the necessities for the feast that would be held for the child’s nafnfesti.

“Where were we, yes you were about to spill the beans on how you became married to the little fireball upstairs. I have never seen anyone corner you quite like that and live to tell the tale. Now, spill it.”

“There is not much to tell. I got in some trouble by her brother hands, he offered his sister in his stead, I chose another sister.”

“Why?”

“The elder sister was a beauty but her hair was too short. I noticed Elizabeth’s extraordinary green eyes and had Caroline let down her hair, it reached the back of her knees and I chose her.”

“You fell in love with her hair?”

“Do not be daft, I lusted after her I do not do love it is a women’s prerogative, not a man’s.”

“You tell yourself that if it gives you comfort... Now that I am fed I will rest a little, hard journey and all that.”

“If you see Ragnhild on your way, have her summon Thormod for me, I need a word with him.”

By the time Thormod entered, the Jarl had settled on a course of action and gestured for the Viking to take a seat by his side.

“You grew up on a farm, did you not Thormod?”

“Yes.”

“One of my smallholdings are vacant as Gille choose to leave after Gerda divorced him. Would you be interested in taking over? I will not release you entirely from your other duties as I highly respect you on the battlefield but I do not plan to take you with me on another expedition as long as my wife and child are at home, I want you to protect them.” 

Thormod had come, expecting a reprimand perhaps even punishment for his defiance in doing his orders. To be rewarded rendered him speechless. 

“There is another matter that you may resolve by taking my offer. Having a farm enables you to marry and I have a proposition for you. Gyda staid behind in Fröyland as she connected with a younger son and they married after Summer Days Blót but Audr is still here and if you would consider marrying her and by that taking her off my hands, I will give you twelve ounces of gold as her dowry. She is still pure, at least to my knowledge. Of what she had done before she came here, I know little.”

“I accept.” 

Thormod was a man of few words and the matter was settled to both the Jarl’s and the warriors' satisfaction. 

“I expected you to tan his hide.”

“And I expected you to be asleep, seems like none of us had the right of it.” Richard laughed. He was well known for his stealthy approach.

“I was utilizing your latrine, I still do not understand why you insist on having the facilities out of doors. Must be bloody cold in the winter.” 

“That it is.”

When Elizabeth awoke a couple of hours later and came downstairs with the babe. A proud father carried his daughter out of doors. He showed her off to all and sundry on the Nidaros estate. Everybody from thralls to smithy and Vikings was presented with his little bundle of joy.   
If anyone noticed the unusual colour of her eyes, they did not dare to mention it.  
She was such a tiny thing, sitting in the crook of her father’s arm like a princess on a throne facing all her admirers with a stoic expression. Not minding the attention one bit. 

“She is so tiny,” the Jarl whispered while fitting her perfectly within his two hands.”

“Thank the Lord for that,” Elizabeth crossed herself unconsciously while shuddering.

“You might try swallowing a whole head of kale and let it pass and see if you would wish it were bigger.” 

The Jarl grinned back, obviously not taking offence at her jesting.

“No. I guess she is perfect. I was a large babe or so I was told but my mother was much taller than you even taller than Gjendine so she handled it well enough.”

“Tell me about your mother...”

“She was beautiful, raven-haired, tall and slender. She missed the Britons and her family though, she came from a village near the peaks called Matlock, her part of the country is under Danish rule now but it was not when she lived there.”

“How did she end up married to a Viking?”

“She was stupid and fell in love with a Viking that brought her home as one of his prizes from raiding the Britons soil. She came voluntarily and left voluntarily.” 

“We are all fools in love or at least we women are. Men do not have feelings or so I have been told.”

Elizabeth wondered if it was his bitterness talking or if he was trying to warn her off falling in love with him. He had not mentioned anything of his mother’s personality or how she had been as a mother.

“Where is Gyda and Audr?” Elizabeth had finally noticed that the Jarl’s frilles were nowhere to be seen. 

“I left Gyda in Fröyland, she married one of the Fröylanders, a few days after Summer Days Blót which is why we were a little late arriving home. Thormod has agreed to marry Audr and I suppose she is with him now. I offered him the small-holding that Gille managed as a reward for taking such good care of you, even when I am present and as a compensation because he will no longer be part of any expeditions that you and our daughter is not on. I want him to stay at home to guard you when I am from home, permanently.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For concerning yourself about our protection.”

“You are my responsibility.”

“Yes, I suppose...”

Elizabeth did not thank him for the disposing of his frilles but she was feeling a great relief that they would no longer be under her foot all the time and she could breathe more easily.   
Why she felt relieved, she chose not to analyse too closely.   
He still had his thralls and would not go without if he did not choose it. But it was a small victory and proof of that he had listened to her and that he did consider her feelings.  
She had not yet decided if she wanted to stay though and were secretly contemplating the opportunity to join Richard and Lady Catherine on their voyage home.   
The conundrum was how to bring her daughter with her. The love the father had for his daughter was plain to see, despite his repeated counter wise statements on men and love.   
Fenrir Darcyson was bewitched, the gentleness he showed his daughter was heart-warming and the pride he had shown in presenting Embla to his clan were confusing to Elizabeth. 

The nights impromptu feast with the invitation to the inhabitants of Lade, introducing Embla to Carl and Jane, proceeded with much delight. Even jesting about her paternity, having inherited one eye from her mother and one from her father...

Elizabeth no longer harboured any fears of him putting her out but she did not believe that he had not crowded the bed with his thrall, the evidence was too strong and Elizabeth had no reason to trust his words. The thought of separating them was breaking her heart but staying were breaking hers...


	11. The Calm Before the Storm

Chapter XI The Calm before the storm

Retiring for the night, Elizabeth worried that her husband’s return might make him want to use his husbandly rights. She was pacing their chamber when he entered with a chest under his arm.

“Cease that stomping and come here, I have something to show you.”

“Fenrir I cannot come to you.”

“Why not?”

“I am not fully healed yet, you know from the birth...”

“I know. I am not going to ravish a woman that have just given birth, I have something for you but you need light to see it properly.” Elizabeth approached him with such reluctance that he grew impatient with her.

“Come. I should have given you this when you first came to Nidaros as a part of the Heiman Fylgja but it escaped my mind. Our discussion, earlier today, reminded me of it.”

The Jarl lead her outside with the chest still tucked under his arm and sat down on the threshold, opening the chest.

“It was my mother’s,” he said while turning the chest so Elizabeth could see. Magnificent armbands shaped like snakes creeping up her arm, necklaces of beads, chunky silver and glittering gold, some were decorated with rock crystals, earrings and rings for her fingers that were matched with hear beads and hairpins. Elizabeth was stunned by the sheer amount but also the incredible wealth that her husband had ‘forgotten'.

“Should not at least some of these if not all of it, go to Gjendine?”

“She was handed her share when our mother died, these have always been intended for my wife. It is yours Elizabeth whether you stay or you leave. I did notice that you did not answer me if you wanted to stay but I wanted you to have this...”

“Thank you Fenrir, it is a beautiful treasure.”

“I want you to wear it, every day. Not all of it at once but some of it so that everyone can see that you are the wife of the Jarl of Nidaros.”

“I will, I thank you.”

“Let us go back inside Elizabeth, you are shivering.”

“Yes, it is cold for a summer night. It does not bode well for the weather on the morrow nor does the black clouds that are gathering from the North.”

“No, I think you are right...”

Lady Catherine was ranting and raving by the next morning about the weather that had turned foul. She had planned to leave Nidaros as soon as may be but the summer storm that was raging had put paid to that.  
Thunder and lightning reigned the sky and hails the size of peas were drumming on the roof.

“Have we upset Thórr do you think, since he is throwing us this frenzied tantrum from above?”

“No, he is celebrating his offerings from the blót. It is quite common to have a storm or two in the summer, it clears the air. Hopefully, our crops will not suffer too badly from the hail, it can beat an entire field flat if it chooses.”

“It essentially means that we cannot possibly set sail before the storm has calmed aunt. I am of no mind to cut our visit here short at any rate. I have not travelled this far to turn back on the threshold. The men need rest and they are eager to explore the land that it is very unlikely they will set foot on, ever again. I suggest that we stay for the duration that we agreed upon initially. Are you not curious to see more of how your niece and nephew lives?”

“They are practically savages Richard, celebrating pagan gods with barbaric rituals. No, I am not eager to learn nor observe.”

“Perhaps you may convert them?” Lady Catherine harrumphed but did not protest any further.

Elizabeth, who sat quietly in a corner with the babe, rose to offer the lady some entertainment. 

“Lady Catherine, would you like me to show you the loom house, now that the hail storm has passed? It is where we weave and produce clothing. Gjendine is a particularly proficient weaver and her works are exceptionally detailed and masterfully done...”

“You may, anything other than this dark and gloomy room would be an improvement.”

The hails had stopped but the wind had picked up. Elizabeth bent towards the wind and trudged through to the loom house where Gjendine sat at the loom where she usually could be found these days.

“See, is it not exquisite?” Elizabeth showed Lady Catherine the weave that Gjendine was working on, she was noticeably impressed and continued to question Gjendine on her skills.   
Elizabeth surreptitiously moved to check her yarn that she were clandestinely dying a small portion of in Buckthorn and Woad to produce a blue and a green colour for the weaved mural she was making of her daughter. A gift to her father, if she decided to leave.   
It was only fair that he should have some sort of a memento of his daughter to remember her by if she was not going to be in his life.   
Buckthorn grew naturally but the Woad must have been brought by a former mistress to Nidaros, from a land further south. Elizabeth had had the luck of coming across a bush of the plant on one of her wanderings outside. It seemed to thrive although it was not a native part of the flora.

When the topic of weaving and its challenges had been exhausted, Gjendine joined them on a tour of the rest of the estate. Lady Catherine seemed particularly impressed by the enormous longhouse with its elaborate carvings and the many crafts that kept the estate fairly self-sufficient in many aspects of their daily life. She was not as impressed by the murals on the walls who largely recaptured battles they had won, being rather barbaric in their expression. 

“I can see the influence of my sister on the estate. She had such an elegant taste.”

Elizabeth secretly wondered when they had moved from savage to elegant but supposed she would never know.

On their way back to the main house, they were intercepted by Thormod and Audr, heading to the Jarl with an request to marry. 

To Elizabeth’s astonishment, she, as the housewife of Nidaros, was expected to perform as the priestess at the wedding. The task was both daunting and somewhat distasteful but she saw no way out of it and decided to confer with Ragnhild on how to proceed.   
As it turned out, she was leading the bathing ritual and were present at the altar, in charge of the bride's contribution to the vows and handing her the sword and the ring that would be exchanged. 

Thormod was from Kaupang in the south, he had no family at Nidaros, neither had Audr whom as the Jarl’s frille, belonged to him. As there was not to be any long-distance relatives they needed to accommodate time for travel, the wedding was set to the next Friday eight days hence which did not allow for the honey-sweetened mead to brew but it was decided to add honey to the mead they already possessed. It allowed their Anglo-Saxon visitors to participate in a traditional Viking wedding, how much they would appreciate that gesture, were questionable. 

The Jarl conducted the negotiations on behalf of Audr while Thormod represented himself.  
She did not have a family sword to gift her husband and the smithy was ordered to make one that would be the mighty Viking worthy. He made a copy of one the swords that the Jarl had brought from London last summer. The Anglo-Saxons were known for their ironworks and was one of the main reasons for last years expedition, to bring back samples for their smithy to replicate.

On the wedding day, the groom and his men set sail into the fjord in wee the hours of the morning. Waiting for the horn to blow the signal of when they should return to shore.

Elizabeth conducted the bathing ceremony for the bride to wash away her virginity. She had no wedding crown from her family so Elizabeth had braided one of the flowers to be had in the meadow and adorned it with ribbons. More flowers were fastened in her hair and the meagre jewellery she had brought from home were added. Appropriately dressed, the blushing bride pulled Elizabeth aside 

“I have never turned to a man before mistress. What should I do, what can I expect?”

Elizabeth pondered the question for a while. She could not relate her own experience as that would certainly frighten the girl and Thormod might be left without his bride.

“You will be escorted to the bride-couch by four ladies and four men with torches.   
The ladies will help you undress and when you lie down in the bed he will exert his rights and you should try to relax, close your eyes and think of something pleasant.” 

Elizabeth drew in a deep breath having that uncomfortable conversation out of the way and feeling a tiny bit relieved that Audr had just admitted to be a virgin.

Their Anglo-Saxon visitors showed an equal part of disgust and amusement for the ceremony itself, only the exchange of rings from the hilts of their swords were left without an outraged comment from Lady Catherine.   
The bridal-run was divided into the Vikings for the groom and rest for the bride which made the outcome less than surprising as the Vikings consisted of well-trained men while the bride's crew were females, children and stout farmers.

The bride and groom grew rather tipsy by the end of the evening. Audr did not seem to mind the sweetness of the brew and laughed merrily as they followed them to the bride-couch.   
They were undressed and slipped under the covers.   
Elizabeth made sure that nobody lifted the covers to look and turned away to give the amorous couple as much privacy as were possible under the circumstances.   
Her eyes met the Jarl’s whom was equally inclined and he smiled at her. The smile sent frissons down her back and she thought he should smile more often, the way it transformed his countenance from fierce and forbidding to something else entirely. 

Thormod groaned and collapsed on top of his bride and Elizabeth hastened out of the room, dragging the other ladies with her. The deed was done, there were no reasons to linger.

The celebration lasted for three days and by the time it was over, Elizabeth was glad to be able to concentrate on her daughter. Jane, who had delivered a healthy baby boy, had sent a messenger that they would come visit. 

Lady Catherine took to Jane as most people did with her serene and amiable sister and congratulated her of her sensible choice of birthing a son and heir.   
Luckily, she did not regale Jane with any stories about what could have happened had she birthed a daughter. Most likely because she did not know, nor did she seem to remember that she had only the one daughter herself.   
Her daughter Anne, who had been named for her sister, was of a sickly constitution and had therefore been spared the rigours of travel.   
Elizabeth wondered if that was the real reason she was so intent on the Jarl marrying her daughter as good health in a bride was essential to be regarded as eligible. 

Jane’s boy was a handsome lad, not surprising considering his parentage but he was fussy and malcontent most of the time. Suffering from a stomach ailment they struggled to alleviate. Elizabeth wondered if it would not be better to try to feed him goats milk as his mother’s milk did not seem to agree with him. Her suggestion had been thoroughly overruled by an uncommonly firm Jane and a not so uncommonly firm Lady Catherine, she opted to hold her tongue after that.

Three days later the Anglo-Saxons left Nidaros and Elizabeth was granted a few days with her sister and new nephew with little to disturb them.   
Jane invited them to Lade for the Winter Days Blót which surprised Elizabeth as it had been held at Nidaros the previous year, Elizabeth had somehow surmised that it would be at Nidaros this year as well. 

Jane explained that it would be held at Lade as token of their gratitude towards the aid that the Vikings of Nidaros had provided during the Berserkers attack on Lade.  
It made perfect sense to Elizabeth who was not entirely sorry to be relieved of the duties as priestess but silently worried about how her sister would stomach the sacrifice of a horses manhood...

Jane seemed more concerned about how Elizabeth was getting along with Gyda and Audr whom she had been introduced to during their journey to Fröyland. She also concern herself of how Embla might tolerate the few hours of carriage ride to Lade where Elizabeth reminded Jane that her daughter was more than a month older than her Birk and would probably handle the travel even better.   
Elizabeth was surprised that Jane did not know that Gyda had been married and had staid on Fröyland with her new husband but Jane and Carl had left after just the three days of blót, eager to be home before the birth of their child. Elizabeth informed Jane that Audr had married Elizabeth’s personal guard Thormod and was currently residing with him. Carl did not seem to have frilles, or so she thought as Jane did not mention any but neither did the Jarl, Elizabeth thought with some trepidation.

The Lade people left to start preparing for Winter Days Blót and Elizabeth stood on her favourite looking point at the top of the bluff when Audr approached her.

“Do you miss your home?”

“Yes I do, particularly my father, we were very close. Do you miss home Audr”

“No! My father was not a kind man. He once chopped off the hands of thrall woman that had displeased him. It was a gruelling sight and the thrall bled to death before my eyes. I have never seen battle or even a holmgang. Our farm is situated up in the mountains, we had very few visitors and I had never travelled before I came here. I was petrified when my father handed me to the Jarl to secure the connection and trading opportunity with Nidaros. I am so grateful I came here and not somewhere else where I might have been treated badly.”

“I have not treated you well Audr...”

“You have Elizabeth, I could see the way you hurt and I longed for an opportunity to tell you that the Jarl was not using his rights to my body but it never came.” 

Elizabeth laughed mirthlessly.

“Only my pride was hurt Audr, do not concern yourself. I am glad you are content. Thormod is a good man and deserves to be happy and so do you Audr.”

“Thank you, mistress.”

“Oh do not thank me, I had little to do with the matter. I have no idea how the agreement came about.”

Audr felt a tap on her shoulder and was asked to leave them alone which she did with haste.

“I do not like to see you standing there at the edge of the bluff, Elizabeth.”

“Because your mother threw herself off?”

“Yes, partially that and partially because it looks like you are looking towards your homeland and wanting to escape.” Elizabeth laughed another mirthless laugh.

“If I did, I would have left with your cousin and aunt.”

“You could never have left your daughter...”

“I was not planning to...”

“I would never have let you take her.”

“I know, so I planned to fool you and take her anyway.”

“How?”

“A lady must have her secrets...”

“You thought long and hard about it, did you not?”

“Yes I did, I even made you a memento to remember your daughter by when we were gone.”

The Jarl looked pensive and thoughtful. 

“What made you decide to stay?”

“I do not know. Hope I guess.”

“I would not have let you leave Elizabeth but can you please step away from the edge.”

“Why did she jump?”

The Jarl sighed and ran his hands over his face.

“It is a long story...”

“I got time.”

“My father did not love my mother.”

“I know, men do not love because it somehow makes them less of a man. That is no reason to throw yourself off a bluff...”

“That was not what I meant, my father preferred men....”

“Is that allowed?”

“Yes, but it is frowned upon if you do not act with discretion or do not like women as well, marry and beget a child.”

“What about their wives,” Elizabeth whispered to no one in particular. 

“My father had many thralls that he threw his thigh over but Geir became a favourite. My mother did not know until Geir told her.”

“That was his right I would think, he was a thrall with no say in the matter, besides that, he was a very young boy. Perhaps it was in desperation to escape unwanted attention.”

“He did not mind, believe me, and he is a few years older than me but that was not the only confession he made. He also claimed to be my father’s bastard and that he was not the only son my father abused.”

“Was it true?”

“No, his mother was pregnant before she came here, I have done a thorough investigation and of that, there is no doubt but it happened before my mother came here and she did not take the time to check the particulars before throwing herself into the certain death.”

“What about you,” Elizabeth whispered. 

“Not true and my mother chose not to protect the son she thought was abused but opted to save herself by running off this bluff.”

“Let us go back Fitzwilliam, I have something to show you.”

Elizabeth took the Jarl’s hand and dragged him to the loom house where her finished weave lei under pressure to set. She pulled out the likeness of her daughter with her name in runer at the bottom. Elizabeth was pleased with the eyes if not the entire likeness and to her astonishment, the Jarl blinked furiously. 

“It is lovely Elizabeth but it could never replace the child itself.” 

He left her standing in the loom house with the weave in her hands, feeling the guilt of her treacherous thoughts.   
The Jarl could be found in the house, cuddling his daughter that cooed happily to her father.   
When she grew hungry, he followed Elizabeth to their chamber as Elizabeth had never grown comfortable feeding her child before an audience.   
Her experience from her wedding night had settled an aversion to nudity that made her cringe at just the thought.   
She did not want to be looked upon by strangers, undressed, ever again. 

The Jarl seemed to have lost all trust in her and paddled after her for days. Well, not her exactly but their daughter. She did no longer feel insignificant, she felt distrusted which she admitted she had earned. 

A messenger entered Nidaros a few days later with sorrowful news. One of the Jarl’s Herse's had died of fever and the master and mistress were expected to attend his funeral.   
They were packed and left in a few hours, taking the babe with them.

Arriving at the Teien estate by nightfall. The Jarl with wife and child was ushered inside where they were served a hearty meal while stories of the late Sigurd Larsson was told as entertainment. 

“It is a shame he did not accompany you to the Anglo-Saxon last year Fenrir, he might have died honourably in battle and been welcomed at Valhall but it was not to be...” 

Elizabeth wonder at the comment from the stranger at her husband’s side and decided to enquire after they had tucked in at night as she was loathe to show her ignorance in front of company.  
She did learn that the Herse was a widower with several sons and daughters. The oldest son was still at home and would step up as the new Herse.   
He left three frilles but neither had chosen to follow their master to the grave which Elizabeth thought a strange comment.

In their chambers, the Jarl had explained to Elizabeth that only warriors would get to Valhall where they would be served food and drink for all eternity. They had to die an honourable death though and neither illness nor old age counted as one, it was much better to die in battle, Holmgang or being murdered... The ones that died of illness or old age were going to Hel, the goddess of death and her realm. Living their afterlife in cold darkness, suffering from illness and starvation. 

***

Elizabeth had little to do the next day and wandered around the premises to watch and learn. One of the smaller houses were kept under constant guard by a couple of fierce warriors and other warriors were let in, one at a time but it was never the same one. Elizabeth decided to find someone to ask and her choice fell on Almveig, one of the late herse's frilles.

“What is going on over there?” Elizabeth pointed discreetly in the direction of the small building. 

“Hildrun, one of the thralls has chosen to follow her master to the grave. She will be there until the ship is set on fire.”

“What will happen to her then?”

“She will be strangled, her heart will be stabbed and she will join Sigurd on the ship. Before she get that far, the warriors will fill her with the essence of life, of course.”

‘The essence of life? It sounded strange to Elizabeth that she needed to be filled with the essence of life before being murdered. She would have to question the Jarl this night as well as Almveig who were looking bewildered at her.

“She chose to die?”

“Yes, it is an honour that will secure her in the afterlife.” 

The Vikings obviously had quite a different view on death than Elizabeth and seemed unconcerned by it entirely. 

The essence of life, the Jarl had chosen to show rather than tell, after they had tucked in at night... 

Countless men, entered the abode of Hildrun during her last week. How much she noticed of that was another matter as she was kept in a drunken stupor the entire week. 

Sigurd Larsson, lay in the ship he was being buried in, surrounded by many of his most prized possessions.   
His favourite sword, hammer, axe and shield were beside him, he was adorned with necklaces, rings and armbands.   
Barrels with mead, troughs with meat, bread and vegetables in abundance.   
Elizabeth even spotted combes, toothpicks, ear-spoons and scented oils so he would be able to groom himself, wherever he went. Elizabeth had been asked to cut his hair while Almveig cut his nails.

“Why are you cutting his nails?” Elizabeth asked but immediately regretted it as she remembered that her mother had mentioned something about a ship with giants and Almveig looked at her as she had suddenly grown three heads.

“If not, the Jotuun's will use them to build Nagflar and sail to Aasgard and there will be Ragnarok.”

“What is Ragnarok?”

“The end of the world.”

“I have never heard of Jotuun's either...”

“It is giants.”

“Oh...”

***

The day of the burial arrived, the warriors drumming their shields together in the courtyard. Elizabeth thought it was a part of the ritual until she heard screams from the small building and supposed they were there to drown out the cries from the dying thrall. She was carried out of the house to join Sigurd, the ship was set on fire and pushed from shore. The macabre sight floated outwards until it sank in the fjord with a hissing sound. 

“I admit that I am thankful I am not a thrall...”

“Yes, you should be.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Your brother was not really offering your sister as my bride but my thrall. It was supposed to be an even trade, one thrall for another. I suggested that I needed a bride...”


	12. The Battle

Chapter XII The Battle

The Winter Days Blót was upon them but Embla was under the weather. A runny nose left her sneezing and hot to the touch. 

“We should stay at home Elizabeth, I do not want to travel with her when she is running a fever.” The Jarl was worried for his daughter and rightfully so. If half the children on Nidaros grew up to see adulthood, they considered it a blessing. 

The ground had gotten a thin layer of snow, the winter had touched the ground to warn them she was coming although Elizabeth doubted that it would stay through to spring. Winter could be cheeky in these neck of the woods and drop a load of snow that melted with the next ray of sun.

“I suppose you are right but you should go, it would not be taken well if the guest of honour did not come. Battles have been fought for much less, or so I have been told...”

“Yes but I do not want to leave the two of you.” Elizabeth laughed. 

“You mean Embla but I accept the sentiment. Thormod will look after us, he is as protective of your daughter as you are. He would want to stay home with Audr in any case. Oh my is she violently ill. I am glad I did not suffer so with Embla...” 

Poor Audr was having a severe case of the morning sickness that Elizabeth had escaped entirely.

“We will be fine if something happens you are only an hour’s ride away. I promise that I will send for you if Embla worsens or something comes up that I cannot handle.”

“I could ride home at night...”

“In a drunken state? I think not... We would rather have you home in three days than each night with a broken neck, thank you very much.”

“Admit it Elizabeth, you care for me, just a little.”

“Of course silly, I need you to get me the stuff on the upper shelves, you know those things I cannot reach myself.” 

The Jarl launched for Elizabeth and tackled her which made Elizabeth shriek as they toppled down on to the bed. The loud noise awoke Embla who did not care for the rude awakening at all.   
Elizabeth rocked her fussy daughter in her arms and sang softly to settle the child while the Jarl watched.

“Promise me you will send for me if anything happens, I have a bad feeling about this that I cannot manage to shake off.” The Jarl bent down to kiss his daughter’s brow.

“She does not feel as warm now Elizabeth.”

“No, she is only warm in the evenings that is why I am certain you have nothing to worry about. She is probably just teething. Go on or you will be late.”

Elizabeth put her daughter in her crib and tucked her gently in her blanket as not to wake the sleeping child. She turned to walk out but collided with her husband’s chest who wrapped his arms around her to steady her, or to kiss her or both...

The entourage from Nidaros went in a cloud of light and dry snow. Elizabeth sighed as she thought that it was not fair to kiss her like that and leave in the next minute. ‘How cruel...’

She stayed at her daughter’s side while as she slept but ventured out to check that everything was in order, as soon as she awakened.  
It was very quiet with most of the inhabitants gone. 

Most of their thralls was still present though and working on their particular assignment while a few of the very young and untested Vikings had been left to guard the home. Audr was working in the loom house with dyeing yarn from the leaves, roots, mushrooms and flowers they had collected in the autumn. Particularly the yellow grew much more vibrant by what they harvested in the autumn compared to the early summer blooms or birch leaves. It was getting colder by the day and rinsing the yarn from the excessive colour was a gruelling task in fighting off the pain from the freezing waters. Soon the stream would have a layer of ice and no more rinsing could be done with that source.   
Elizabeth was keeping Audr and a couple thralls, mind off the cold water with mindless chatter as they worked. Embla was paying rapt attention to the vibrant colours going in and out of the water and was squirming in Elizabeth’s arms to get down and aid the working women when a newcomer arrived at Nidaros. 

“Do you know that Lady?” Elizabeth asked Audr.

“No, but she is a volva.”

“What is a volva?”

“She is a wise woman, healer and priestess. You should pay her every deference. I wonder why she is dressed in black, they usually are dressed in vibrant colours.”

Elizabeth studied the woman approaching. She wore a black, hooded cloak with pouches and a bronze pot, dangling in her belt. An enormous owl sat perched on her shoulder and she held a bronze wand in her hand.  
Elizabeth curtsied deeply as she drew near, uncertain of what was expected. The Volva did not speak but studied Embla which was sitting on her mother’s hip, gazing back at the strange lady.  
Elizabeth invited her inside and offered food and drink that the Volva consumed without a word. The silence grew uncomfortable to Elizabeth and she searched her mind for something to say.

“I have never met a Volva before, you must excuse me if I unintentionally offend you but I wondered why you have come?”

“You need me,” the Volva answered. 

She smeared a salve on her hands and closed her eyes. Chanting in a low voice she seemed lost to the world, Elizabeth and her daughter watched as her voice grew in volume and her body convulsed in a strange rhythm. Her eyes opened, showing only the white before she fell back in exhaustion. 

“By the next moon, the blood eagle will have landed on your soil. Be prepared, protect your child, she is special, she has great gifts that you are not aware.” 

Elizabeth shuddered as someone was walking over her grave. Nothing scared her more than the thought of anything sinister, happening to her child. 

“Is she sick?” She whispered in a low voice to the Volva.

“No, the danger does not come from within.”

Elizabeth left the Volva to rest on a comfortable bed and went in search of Thormod.

“Thormod, what is the blood eagle?”

“Nothing for a ladies ears, I can tell you that much.”

“Is it a rare bird?”

“It is not a bird, it is the most painful way you can kill a man, it is a form of torture.”

That description did nothing to alleviate the fear that was taking hold in her chest. The sense of foreboding was taking over her mind and she took the precautions that she could. 

***

Meanwhile, the Jarl was not enjoying himself quite as much as he usually did when the Blót was done and the food and the drink were flowing freely.   
He looked around at his fellow Vikings. As custom, the wives partook in the feast on the first evening and he was feeling Elizabeth’s absence from his side, keenly. She should have been with him, preferably with a sleeping Embla in her arms but as it was not to be, he let his gaze wander. 

At his left, Erlend Karlson, the squire of Orkanger was laughing boisterously while diving his head in between the breasts of the voluptuous woman standing at his side. His hand was up her skirt, moving in such a way that left nothing to the imagination.   
On his other side, sat a young girl, probably his wife. The Jarl followed a drop that fell from her bent head and joined its siblings in a patch on her skirt.   
The squire must have married recently as the puny girl sitting beside him looked to be about twelve years old.  
The Jarl’s eyes left the sordid couple and travelled to Carl and Jane. Sitting in an amicable conference, holding hands and stealing clandestine little kisses until Carl hauled his bride to his lap and kissed her thoroughly, lost to the world and the revellers surrounding them.  
The Jarl averted his eyes to give the lovers some modicum of privacy and let them scan the rest of the crowd. It dawned on him that Carl and Jane were probably the only happy couple present. 

Another squire whisked a male thrall from his duty of serving ale and left the longhouse covertly but his wife was not fooled and sat with her arms crossed, sporting a scowl on her face. A divorce waiting to happen, the Jarl surmised which would be proven on the next day as her husband’s discretion in his frolics were lacking.  
The Jarl suddenly noticed that neither Gyda’s father, Harald Ivarson, or Hardbargain as he was known, nor Audr's father, Leif Sturluson were present. The Jarl wondered if Carl had forgot to invite them, which would be taken as a grave insult, or could the early snow have prevented them from travelling?  
Carl and Jane left to retire, unheard of but they did none the less. The Jarl rose to follow suit. A thrall was immediately at his side, running her hand down his chest but he waved her off. Stomping to his chamber, unsatisfied, grumpy and deep in thought. 

***

Elizabeth retired early, the Volva slept and had not shown herself since their first disturbing encounter.   
Embla’s fever had not returned by the evening and Elizabeth felt comforted that the illness had passed. Pondering if they should go to Lade and join her husband for the last two days of the Blót, before she fell into a peaceful slumber...

Elizabeth awoke with a start, her nightmarish dream still vivid in her mind.   
The image of the Jarl being sacrificed at the blót at Lade made her heart pound and her hands tremble.   
Then she froze, someone outside were screaming “Holmgang" and from the sound of it, it was more than one. 

Elizabeth dressed in seconds and utilized the equipment she had made to hide her daughter in when she planned to run from Nidaros.   
She tucked her daughter in the fabric and placed her on her back, tied the device in her front and pulled a worn apron over the knots.   
By the back entrance, she found an old and large, well worn hooded cloak that covered the babe as she pulled it on. She hid a couple of knives and threw her bow over her shoulder the sheet with arrows, she fastened in her belt.  
Elizabeth went stealthily out the backdoor after she asked a young thrall boy to take a horse and ride as fast as he could to Lade to alert the Jarl that Nidaros was under attack. She crept down to the loom house, entered and went to the loft that had become her favourite hiding place. 

To her surprise, it was not empty. Audr sat in a corner behind a chest. Elizabeth pulled Embla from her hiding place and laid her to her breast, to keep the child quiet.

“Audr, I need you to do something for me.” Audr’s fearful eyes locked with hers.

“I need you to guard Embla, with your life if necessary... Do everything you need to keep her quiet. Let her chew on these leaves if she gets fussy but try this stale bread first.” Elizabeth pulled out the necessary items from her pocket.

“The leaves will make her sleepy but do not let her chew too long.  
Do not, under any circumstance let any other person find her but me or the Jarl. I trust nobody else, do you understand. The reward for saving her life will be the farm you are currently living on with all the land that are attached today and I will gift you my most prized jewellery that would keep you and your family fed for years if you sell it.”

Audr nodded sagely and Elizabeth pulled off the few items she had on, including her wedding ring and armband and placed it in Audr's lap.

“I will bolt the door from the outside and lock the downstairs door with my key. If anyone enters, hide Embla under the clothes or in one of the chests. Any questions?” 

Audr shook her head in denial but Elizabeth felt all the trepidation of leaving her most precious babe to a girl that she no longer disliked but had no reason to trust either.   
Her plan had been to leave Embla there unattended but she did not have time to come up with another plan.   
Embla had fallen asleep at her breast and she reluctantly handed her to Audr.   
Kissed the tiny head, tucked her knives in her invention on her back, hid the bow under her cloak and went downstairs after securing the loft with a bolt.   
Locking the door from the inside, she put a chair in the fire pit, jumped and grabbed the edges of the hole in the ceiling that usually let out the smoke but it was the lady of Nidaros that squeezed through the opening, on this particular day. She crawled down the thatched roof and jumped to the ground without a sound.  
She crept towards the main house, wanting no one to know which direction she had come from. She managed to emerge from the front door undetected but nobody was paying her any mind when she was out in plain view. She was not dressed as the lady of the house but a working hand on a farm.

Thormod stood broad legged in the middle of the courtyard, in the front of what Elizabeth counted as twenty-odd men.   
In the forefront stood Harald Ivarson and Leif Sturluson, the respective fathers of Gyda and Audr.   
Elizabeth did not get to ponder long on what they wanted as they stood and demanded to speak to the Jarl, Fenrir Darcyson the Wolf about the great insult he had given them by selling their daughters to the highest bidder. If he was so displeased with their performance he could have returned them or killed them. Either way was obviously fine with the men but giving them to men that could provide them with their own homes, was not...

“The Jarl is not at home,” Thormod’s booming voice announced across the yard.

“We demand compensation for the loss of our daughters and we will have it now. Call for the lady of the house. She will do just as well as the Jarl, perhaps even better, come to think of it.” The reply came from Leif Sturluson who seemed to be in charge of the debacle that had befallen them.

“The Jarl is not at home, neither is the lady, they are at Winter Blót at Lade as you dunga heads are probably aware of.” 

Elizabeth questioned the wisdom of insulting the attackers as it would not make their mood any lighter but were thankful for his quick thinking, denying that she was at home.

“It does not matter to us, much easier to get what we came for without the Jarl and missus at home to stop us.” Someone in the back shouted and many “ayes” and “I hear you,” followed.

“With only the ladies and the babes at home, it looks like an easy enough task and a pleasant one as well.” One of the front men leered at a pretty thrall that stood pensively watching from the side. The babes, an insult against the young Vikings that now stood behind Thormod’s back. They appeared a sorry lot, even to Elizabeth, as most of them hardly had enough facial hair to grow a beard much less the build or experience of a battle-hardened Viking. 

Suddenly, one of the men launched forward with Thormod at sword point.   
Elizabeth grabbed her bow and arrow pierced the attacker’s eye, the Viking dropped dead at Thormod’s feet while another attempted to attack from the other side.   
Elizabeth could not aim at him as Thormod stood in between. To her astonishment, a spear floated elegantly through the air, burying itself in the Vikings chest and he too fell to the ground.   
The thrower had long white hair, blowing in the breeze.   
Elizabeth had gathered attention to herself and good ideas were precious.   
The strangers had come by ship and Elizabeth thought of an advantage. She ran to the nearby stables, grabbed her horse and swung herself up by the mane. The frightened beast galloped by the crowd of men and Elizabeth got two god shots before her thighs that gripped the barebacked horse, started to slip.   
She opted to jump before she ended up under the horses' hooves and rolled away from their lethal thump. Battered and bruised but with no serious injuries that she could tell. She ran to the nearest building that happened to be the smithy, grabbed the thatch and hauled herself up on the roof, thanking the Lord for her tree-climbing days as a child, and adulthood, if she was going to be completely honest...  
A Viking was hot on her pursuit and tried to follow her on to the roof, the thatch gave away under his weight but he was not deterred and were climbing back up again, Elizabeth rose to a standing position. He grabbed her by the ankle to haul her off, she shot him through the neck and he let go of her leg to clutch his bleeding throat.  
Her ankle throbbed but she released another arrow that penetrated the chest of another attacker and dodged a spear that was coming her way, luckily it was not Gjendine who were throwing the spear as her aim seemed more accurate.   
Elizabeth let her eyes wander over Nidaros. Thormod was giving up a good fight, others were not as proficient. Nidaros’ loss was great and several of the young lads had not made it and the strangers were performing gruesome acts on the dead bodies. Mutilating and chopping of limbs for the sport of it. With a newfound determination, she hauled a new arrow from the holster to launch at the depraved men when she felt warm, large hands encircling her throat from behind.

“Do not move, do not speak, do not breath and I will promise to make your death less painful for you, my dear housewife of Nidaros.” Elizabeth could not see who was standing behind her but recognised the voice of Leif Sturluson, Audr's father.

He took her bow and threw it off the roof while his other hand kept a firm grip on her throat. Her arrows followed next and to her surprise, so did her entire body. She landed on the ground with a thud and everything went black.

Coming to herself, she first spotted the Volva walking calmly amongst the brawling men, everybody steered clear of her, both the inhabitants and the strangers avoided to do her harm.   
The sound of ripping fabric brought her consciousness to high alert. She could feel someone sitting atop of her with her hands pinned under his knees. The ripping sound was her cloak being torn apart. 

“Let us pay back the Jarl with an eye for an eye shall we?” The boisterous men cheered him on.

“Let us see what he thinks of sharing his blood with another man?” The cheering rose in volume.

“Let us see what he thinks of sharing his blood with every man on Nidaros?” 

The crowd went amok, shouting profanities of what they would inflict on the housewife of Nidaros. The man on top of her slipped off her hand and Elizabeth did not hesitate to use the remaining knife on her back to drive into his side. He hollered and hit her face so hard it sent her into oblivion.

Thormod was the only man left fighting, the young ones had been beaten or captured. He was only the one man, against the seven that was left of the aggressors, sanse the one currently sitting a top of his mistress. He fought hard and bravely but out numbered as he was, it was just a matter of time before he too would succumb to the inevitable...  
A sword to his throat, to his chest and to his abdomen he stood stock still. Leif commanded his men to let the giant live and tie him down, he would find use for him later.

Audr had been found in her hiding place in the loft and Thormod howled his grief when she was carried out between two brawny men, touching her inappropriately while they tugged her along.   
Elizabeth had come to and strived under the weight of Leif who had been distracted by the downfall of Thormod and the capture of Audr. Elizabeth struggled to get a glimpse of Audr and see if her child was with her while she could feel Leif struggling to secure her hands. Suddenly, the weight was lifted off her body. She tried to flip over to her stomach to get a better look at Audr but pain shot threw her body and she gave up. Closed her eyes and prayed for the first time in a long while.

***

Fenrir Darcyson the Jarl of Nidaros was on a mission. The messenger had reached Lade totally exhausted after he had to run the entire way, the stable was surrounded by the enemy which had left him with no choice but to run and run he had.   
Light as feather with the spirit of youth, he had managed to reach Lade in not much more time than a ride would have taken.   
The Jarl had been crazed when he got the message of the attack and had set off towards home in such a speed that had left his horse lathered in white foaming sweat.   
The horse collapsed as soon as they reached Nidaros’ courtyard.   
The Jarl spotted his apparently unconscious wife in the state of near undress and he hauled the man off her in one swift move, planting his fist in his face that render the imposter mute and lame before he roared for bolts. He stretched out his limbs, face down and drove the bolts through his hands, pinning them to the ground and tied his ankles to the bolts he hammered down by his feet with his fists.

His men were pouring into the yard and freed Thormod and Audr. A groan from Elizabeth shifted his focus to his wife.

“Nobody touches this man, he is mine and he will live until I have made him the blood eagle.” 

The Jarl flung himself to his wife. Covering her with the rags of the cloak she had been wearing but not before noticing the cuts and bruises as well as insuring himself that her chemise was still intact. Knowing her discomfort with baring herself, he was glad that he had reached her in time...   
He gathered her into his arms and she winced in pain.

“I am so sorry Elizabeth for failing you so miserably. I am so sorry.”

The Jarl rocked his wife while kissing her head and pleaded with the gods, elves and every ethereal creature he could think of to save her life. He finally got through her haze of pain and she whispered one word in his ear.

“Embla!”

***

“Where the hell is my daughter,” his roar could be heard at every corner of Nidaros as the Jarl stood up with his limp wife in his arms. The enemy was defeated but his daughter was nowhere in sight. 

A loud wail was heard and Audr scurried to the Loom house and went through the broken-down door and up to the loft to retrieve the enraged infant. The babe had answered her father’s call.

The Jarl fell to his knees when she brought him his daughter to hold. Elizabeth tucked in the crook of his right arm and Embla on the left he breathed a little easier. While scowling at the man that he had hammered to the ground.

“What in the bloody hell happened here?” He gazed out over his courtyard and saw the many young ones he had left behind, slaughtered and mutilated. Amongst them, he counted twelve bodies of strangers where five had an arrow through them on various locations. 

“Who is the archer?”

“Your wife,” Thormod answered. 

“She has a wicked aim and the two with spears through their chests are your sister's handy work, the two of them put out half of the men before your young Vikings had drawn their sword. What a sight to behold. With them on our next expedition, I am certain we can claim a few of those highly sought after eunuchs...”

“If she lives...” The Jarl said sobering the giant.

“I have to get her inside, can you carry Embla for me Thormod?”

“Of course.” His limbs were battered and bruised but he was not going to admit that to his superior. He tried to take her with his right arm but as it turned out to be broken he changed to his left.

“Stay in my sight or you will be sorry.”

“What should we do with the eagle here?” Ragnar, one the senior Vikings asked the Jarl. 

“I want ten men guarding him at all times. I will be back to finish. Nobody attacks Nidaros and live to tell the tale but the tale of his defeat will live a long and prosperous life on the tongues of others.” 

The Jarl carried Elizabeth to their chamber with the Volva in tow.

Gently he put her on the bed and gestured for Thormod to put Embla next to her mother. He ordered everyone apart from the Volva out of the room and tentatively undressed Elizabeth to assess her injuries.   
What had not turned blue and purple were red. The bruised ribs and several bumps on her head bespoke her semi-conscious state. He tilted her on her side and let the babe suckle her hard and lumpy breast that was turning into an angry shade of red.

“Why did you not warn her?”

“I did, she was prepared.”

“If she had been prepared, she would have sent for me and none of this would have happened.”

“You needed the lesson.”

“Which she will pay for with her life?”

“She will live if cared for properly. When her fever sets in she can no longer feed the babe, you need to find a replacement and soon.”

“I will. Help me save her and you will not regret it.”

“I know. Leave us...”

The Jarl did as he was told and left his wife and child in the Volva’s hands. Ventured outside and finished what he had started. The agonising cries of Leif, pierced even Elizabeth’s half-unconscious state and she moaned the Jarl’s name, “Fitzwilliam”. 

Ragnhild was put to the task of finding a woman with milk in her breasts while the Jarl loitered outside his chamber until the Volva emerged and he was let back inside. Elizabeth and Embla slept side by side and he eased into the bed behind Elizabeth’s back and carefully tucked her into his arms.

“I told you that I did not love but I loved from the moment we met and I will love until the day I die. No matter what Elizabeth, you are loved.” The Jarl whispered in his wife’s ears while she slept.

**?

Morning dawned with a feverish Elizabeth, the Jarl, Ragnhild and Gjendine fretted but the Volva was calm.

“It will pass, let the body heal itself.”

Elizabeth was elusive one moment and clear-headed the next. Asking for her babe to feed.  
The Jarl brought her daughter to her mother’s side but as Elizabeth pulled down her chemise to give the babe her breast, the Jarl was alarmed by their vibrant red colour and hard, lumpy appearance.

He brought the Volva who immediately advised against Elizabeth feeding the young. Claiming the milk to be toxic. Ragnhild was sent for to fetch the thrall woman that had given birth to a stillborn a few days earlier, praying that she had not yet lost her milk. The woman came and she was able to feed an enraged Embla who was not used to waiting for nourishment.  
Elizabeth cried brave tears, for the loss of feeding her child as much as the pain that her battle-worn body had to endure. 

“What can I do, I need something to do!”

“You can bring me my babe and let her feed because I am bursting with milk, I need to get it out.” 

The Jarl left but did not bring back the babe. He went to his sister and begged her to take care of Embla as her own and that she and no other should inherit Nidaros if something happened to him and Elizabeth.   
Gjendine did not understand where his maudlin thoughts came from but comforted him with acquiescing to the promise he was begging for. Carl and Jane had come to Nidaros after cutting the blót short and sending home their guests.   
They were forced to promise to protect both his sister and Embla should the worst come to pass.   
Secured that his sister and child would be taken care of, superstitious Jarl went back to Elizabeth and emptied her breasts. She had meekly protested at first but with relief came acceptance and she soon fell into a deep and restful sleep in the comfort of her husband’s arms. The Jarl were glad to have helped but preyed fervently that the toxins he believed were in her milk, would not kill him...

***

After a week of tossing and turning, drifting in and out of consciousness, Elizabeth was feeling a little better and the fever relented. She nudged her husband awake. I need you to repeat the service you provided last night. The Jarl blinked and looked rather confused, then he grinned.

“Sure, I am no worse for wear.”

“Did you expect it to have a lasting effect on you? Perhaps turn you into a cooing babe?”

The Jarl looked a little embarrassed. 

“You did didn’t you?”

“Not exactly, I may have been a tad concerned that the toxins in your milk would transfer to me...”

“But you still did it!”

“Hmm, err yes...”

“Because you love me!” It was a statement, not a question. 

“No, men do not...” 

“Yes, I know. Men do not love, it turns them into us poor and weak females.” Elizabeth interrupted rudely.

“I heard you, you love me.”

“You were asleep.”

“No, I was dozing. I had not fallen asleep yet and I heard you but it does make me wonder though... Why the charade with thralls and frilles?”

“I believed you would think less of me as a man if I told you. Besides, you drive me insanely angry, I have never been so enraged with anyone as I have been with you.”

“You punished me?”

“I do not think so...”

“Now that we are being frank, I think it is time you admitted that the first time I walked in on you and your chosen thrall for the night. You were not as innocent as you claim, I smelled her on you, you cannot fool me.” Elizabeth was getting herself worked up.

“You did not smell her on me.” 

“Why did you not?”

“I felt dirty like I was doing something I should not.” 

Elizabeth harrumphed and turned her back on him.

“You love me Elizabeth.”

“Not a chance in Valhall.”

“Yes, you do!”

“How do you surmise I love you by my turning my back on you?”

“If you did not care you would not have minded.”

“Yes, I would. It is called pride. You should be rather familiar with the term, judging by the smirk on your face.”

“I would call it prejudice.”

“How on earth did you come up with that term?”

“Because you believe that enjoying someone’s body means love but it does not.”

“It does! The intimacy between a man and a woman should only be enjoyed between a husband and wife. To be of one flesh creates a bond between two souls and should by no means be shared with all and sundry. It ruins the connection that should be between a couple, not only because it is not special but it ruins the trust. I cannot rely on you when you do not need me, when I can be replaced at any minute by someone you like better, shows you more deference than I or please you more. How can I trust you with my heart.?” 

“You are my wife.”

“No, I am your housekeeper.”

“Hardly.”

“I have exactly the same chores as Mrs Hill had at home but with better sleeping arrangements and a more handsome husband.”

“You think that I am handsome?”

“Of course, out of all that I have said... That would grab your attention. You are incorrigible!  
Tell me... Did the thralls you brought to our chamber during the Gildi call you handsome too? I have not forgot you see, how did that turn out for you?”

The Jarl groaned and turned his back on his wife.

“I see... You do not want to talk about that.”

“It is embarrassing...”

“Tell me!”

The Jarl turned back and faced his wife. Grabbed her face with both hands and forced her to look him in the eyes.

“I had a little too much mead and they were helping me to bed so I could sleep off the effect, not to join me...”

“Oh...”


	13. The Revenge

Chapter XIII The Revenge 

Another week passed and Elizabeth was finally out of bed, her milk was gone but the thrall that Ragnhild had hired was a sweet young girl that was doing an excellent job of keeping Embla fed.   
Elizabeth made sure that the thrall ate meat and vegetables in addition to thralls usual diet of fish. She was, after all, feeding her child...

Elizabeth headed out of doors, thrilled to be breathing the snippy air after having been cooped up inside for so long. The trees had donned their winter gloom but a few stubborn leaves of red still clung to their branches.   
Elizabeth headed to her favourite spot on the bluff and was joined by her husband. ‘Is he still anxious of me jumping off the bluff?” Elizabeth mused. The husband and wife had reached some form of truce, not getting on each other’s nerves but nor were they particularly romantic, at least not in Elizabeth’s eyes.

“I have to leave Elizabeth, we are sailing on the morrow at the crack of dawn.”

“Now, with the winter storms coming? You cannot be serious...”

“We are not going far and the ice will not come for several moons, if at all.”

“But why?” Elizabeth was irked for some reason, why she had no idea.

“I have to revenge you Elizabeth. I took in their daughters, against my own wishes. I cannot have my enemies think that they can attack Nidaros without repercussions. It would not do...”

“But I am fine, no harm done. At least nothing with a lasting effect.”

“It is settled Elizabeth. You nearly died in my arms, no one hurts the housewife on Nidaros and lives to tell the tale.”

“Leif Sturluson is not telling any tales, is he?”

“No.”

“Did you kill him?”

“I did.”

“What about Harald Ivarson?”

“Thormod killed him before I had returned from Lade or his death might not have been so painless.”

“It is never going to end, is it...” Elizabeth felt her vigour leave her and the Jarl carried his wife back to their home.

That night they made love slowly, gently and reverently, until they were utterly spent.

***

When Elizabeth woke up, the Jarl was gone. Elizabeth was miffed that he had not had the courtesy to wake her before he left. 

The Slaughter moon descended and the Yule moon arrived, by the time the Marrow-sucking moon entered the sky, Elizabeth were starting to worry if the Jarl would make it back before the harshest winter moons arrived.   
She was praying that the Jarl was safe and had chosen to stay put until the warm weather arrived with less storms and no treacherous ice in the sea.   
Thormod and Audr had regaled her with stories aplenty of icebergs that only grazed over the surface but were big as a mountain underneath.   
The Jarl could have hit one and had to take shelter on foreign soil or he could not be needing shelter...   
The thought was too disturbing to be dwelt on and Elizabeth turned her mind towards the Winter Solstice Blót. She and the residents at Nidaros was invited to Lade and in her husband’s absence, Elizabeth chose to accept and pack for an extended stay until the day before the Thorri moon rose over the horizon.   
Opting to be home to follow the custom of the housewife of Nidaros, to walk outside and welcome Thorri. The month in honour of men brought a new pleasure into Elizabeth’s life, the first movements of the child she was carrying beneath her breast.   
She honoured her husband with his favourite dish of sheep’s-head although he would not taste or know that the gesture had been made. The chore of removing the hair on the head made Elizabeth empty the contents of her stomach and the feeling of despair and ridiculousness of the endeavour, set in.   
The fifth winter moon of Goi, daughter of Thorri and the month in honour of women, brought little pleasure to Elizabeth. With no husband to be honoured by, it was dedicated to the celebration of her daughter’s first words and wobbly steps. Elizabeth was so proud she could burst by her daughter’s accomplishments while being equally saddened by her father’s continuing absences, depriving him of the experience of seeing these monumental events.   
The sixth and final winter moon, called One-Month came with the birth of Thormod's and Audr's son. A stout little fellow with a healthy pair of lungs that became his parents' pride and joy. Elizabeth had kept her promise and little Balder, that fitted his name perfectly, was the heir to the farm renamed as Thormod-Gard.

By the first moon of summer, Harpa, Elizabeth expectations grew and she was often seen, gazing out over the fjord. Looking for a ship's sail emanating from the waves. The disappointment written on her countenance, each time she retreated without success. 

***

Finally, the second summer moon of Skerpla brought a visitor to Nidaros. The lone rider with a bear cub following in his footsteps came with peace and offered superior silversmith skills to pay for food and lodgings.   
Elizabeth chose to let him stay, to Gjendine’s delight. The quiet, young man with the unruly beard and curly hair had obviously made an impression. He introduced himself as Odin Hakonson from Borre. He spoke little about himself but he spoke little of anything.   
Elizabeth hopes that he might bring news of her husband dwindled as it became clear that he came from the south while her husband had gone north.

Gjendine practically cooed whenever the silent man was in her presence but he showed no particular regard for her younger sister and Elizabeth silently worried that Gjendine might be hurt by the time he left. He had made it clear from the beginning that he had no interest in becoming a permanent inhabitant of Nidaros. He was a wanderer and when he felt the calling, he would leave.

The third summer moon brought the sun to its highest peak and heat that followed was unbearable to Elizabeth’s overgrowing belly.   
Much heavier than with Embla, Elizabeth was certain that the babe under her breast was the son that the Jarl wanted.   
It also brought resignation, the Jarl was not coming back. Dejected and sick to the heart, Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bluff, letting her sorrow drown in tears.

***

Audr approached her former mistress with a combination of trepidation and determination. She sat down, next to Elizabeth and stroked the grieving woman’s back.

“This will not do Elizabeth, you will make yourself sick with worry.”

“He is not coming back, is he.”

“We do not know that.”

“He must have been killed!   
If not, he would have sent words. He must have fought and lost or perhaps he drowned in the freezing sea. That is why I have not heard from him in eight moons. He is dead...” A new wave of despair washed over her and heavy tears rolled down her cheeks.

“It is not so bad Elizabeth. If there had been a major fight and Nidaros had suffered as you predict. We would have known by now. There would have been ships arriving to empty Nidaros of all its treasures or taken over the ownership. That you have not had any words is a good thing Elizabeth. It means that it is still hope. Do not despair, it does you no good and can hurt the babe you are carrying. Nurture hope Elizabeth, as long as we have had no words, we have hope.”

Elizabeth walked back to the house and her worries took another turn when she walked in on Gjendine in a tight embrace with the stoic Odin Hakonson.   
There was obviously a passionate man, hidden underneath the surface.   
Elizabeth called for Thormod and Audr came with him to comfort a distraught Gjendine.

“What do you have to say for yourself Mister Odin Hakonson, accosting a young girl of high rank?”

“Young? I believed she was seven and ten summers.”

“She is,” Elizabeth reluctantly admitted. 

“How old were you when you were married?”

“I was seven and ten but that is beside the point. My husband had a house and the means to support me and my children... Wait, did you say marry?”

“Yes, I want to marry Gjendine. “

“But how will you live? Will she travel with you on your horse across foreign and dangerous land. In the open, without shelter for herself and her children?”

“No. I am the only son on the estate of Borre. I have been wandering by choice, not necessity. When I marry, I will bring my bride back to my homestead. My father is a Jarl, like your husband, I am his heir.”

“How far south exactly is Borre, further south than Fröyland?”

“Yes, much further south and east. It is near Kaupang.”

Elizabeth’s mind raced while she pondered the conundrum. At least she had heard of Kaupang. The Jarl had mentioned it as a large town with good trade and he had been there, several times over. ‘What she would give to hear his thoughts now. What he would have wanted for his sister...’

“It does not matter, you have to marry...”

“You give us your permission?”

“Yes, we will have to brew the honey-sweetened mead and prepare so it will be in six weeks. Let us pray the babe can wait that long...”

Gjendine was delighted when the news of her upcoming wedding reached her ears.   
Her squeal could be heard outside on the yard and well-wishers poured in the door and an impromptu celebration was held while Elizabeth sat down with Odin Hakonson to negotiate the dowry and bride-price until the early summer morning.   
Knackered, she went to sleep with the satisfaction that Gjendine would be well taken care of, although far away from herself and her growing brood.   
It hit her then, that this might as well be her last babe.   
It hurt, Elizabeth had always wanted a large family, should she be so fortunate as to marry.   
Hopefully, Jane would have more luck and she could borrow some of her offspring when her own became too old to cuddle...


	14. The Addition to Their Party

Chapter XIV The Addition To Their Party 

Elizabeth’s wish of postponing the birth of her child was not granted.   
The fourth summer moon of Haymaking rose as Elizabeth awoke with severe pain in her back and water flowing down her legs.   
She lay back down and called for Ragnhild and the Volva to attend her.   
The Volva seemed content on Nidaros and had made no mention of leaving.   
Elizabeth was glad, she was calm when Elizabeth ranted and raved against her lost husband and told Elizabeth to be patient. Not an easy task for Elizabeth Thomasdottir to follow.   
By the twelfth hour, Elizabeth birthed a son. Her ordeal was not yet over as the pain increased yet again and half an hour later, a second son saw the evening light.  
Elizabeth named them herself. Askr the firstborn and Erik the second born.   
With one offspring at each breast, Embla was weaned in a hurry and the thrall that had served her was set to the task of feeding a boy, whenever the need arose.

Their names were not picked by chance. Askr and Embla were the Norse equivalent to the bible’s Adam and Eve. The sagas told that dwarfs had carved a man from an ash branch and a woman from a branch of elm. Odin and two of his brothers had found them on the beach and given them life and Midgard to live in...  
Erik was Fenrir’s grandfather’s name. Elizabeth, unsure if Fenrir would have named a son after his father, chose the grandfather instead.

Elizabeth were limited to directing the wedding planning from her chamber and ordered everyone around to do her bidding.   
She spent an hour or two a day to get to know her new brother better. The wedding had to be postponed an extra two weeks in order for his family to arrive and Elizabeth had easily conceded to his wish.   
Knowing it would the last possibility to hold the wedding or it would have to wait for the next summer. Their guests would otherwise, not be able to travel home safely before the winter storms.

Elizabeth tackled the daunting task of adding to her own protection. Most of the Vikings had gone with her husband and those who were left were either a little young or a little old.   
Elizabeth was coming to terms with the fact that the inheritance of her sons were going to be hers to protect and to make prosperous.

Her suggestion of freeing the thralls and offer them paid positions had been so forcefully opposed to by Thormod which she regarded as both a friend and confidant and in this, she chose to listen to his advice.   
Her position as mistress was precarious enough as it was, even with the support of Lade and Borre.  
To do something that broke with the Norse tradition would put her position at risk as the housewife of Nidaros. She might be perceived as weak and increase the chances of an attack. 

She did, however, manage to add some new rules to the treatment of the thralls. She absolutely forbid penetration of any thrall without their expressed consent to the activity.

***

Elizabeth was content. The man her sister was about to marry had proven himself a worthy and a wise man during their conversations. Not prone to speak out of turn but what he did say was sensible and thoughtful. Even more in his favour was the fact that Thormod approved of him, confirming Elizabeth’s own inclination. 

Embla thrived as a big sister. The jealousy that Elizabeth had feared at first had come to nought as Embla took her big-sister duties with the utmost seriousness and gusto.   
Cuddling her baby brothers or toddling after Ragnhild or Gjendine but mostly she sought the Volva and the Volva did not mind. Spending much time with the little girl with the unusual eyes.   
Embla’s hair had turned out to be a bundle of unruly curls of fiery red. Elizabeth thought that her daughter was exceptionally beautiful but so did every other mother, she mused.

One important conversation remained though. Gjendine was showing signs of increasing trepidation as the weeks towards the wedding flew by. Elizabeth called for Gjendine and put her sleeping babes in their crib and met her in the courtyard. Inviting her to accompany her on a short stroll around the premises. 

“Oh Elizabeth, I do not want to marry after all. It is too far away from you, the boys and Embla. How am I going to cope with all the responsibilities, surrounded by strangers and ...”

“Gjendine are you having second thoughts about marrying Odin?”

“Oh no, I love him. With all my heart and he loves me.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he tells me every day, every time we have a moment to ourselves. He is so good to me Elizabeth... He makes me feel beautiful, like the most precious lady in the entire world. I love him so much that it scares...”

“Gjendine, you will travel in a few weeks with a man that by your own words, loves you and whom you love in return. You will travel with his family that will arrive in a few days and you will get to know them a little before you leave, here in the comfort of your own home. Your new family will speak your language and they will be thankful that you are bringing their long lost son home.   
Yes, it is far away and it will perhaps be a few years before we see each other again but it may not be forever.   
I will travel to Kaupang to trade and it will not be so far to pay you a visit as well. You Gjendine, will be welcome at any time at Nidaros.   
I spoke with Odin about his perchance for travel and he promised me that he would bring you here if he decided to travel to the far east. Which may take a few years my dear.   
Perhaps he will lay those plans to rest when you are married but if he does not. Please consider visiting me for any length of time your heart desires. We will welcome you with open arms Gjendine. You will always have Nidaros as your second home.”

“How was it for you to come here Elizabeth. So far away with a language you did not know and unfamiliar customs, if not entirely distasteful.   
I will never forget your first Blót unwrapping the horse’s manhood and laying it on the altar. You turned the most disturbing shade of green. I was certain you were going to be sick but you kept your composure. I was rather impressed by that...”

“You and Ragnhild made it no hardship. Imagine me coming here with no one who could speak my language and teach me yours. I would not have survived.”

“My brother would have aided you.”

“I suppose but your brother had many responsibilities and he was rather occupied with those at the time.”

“Would you have chosen this a second time Elizabeth?”

“I did not choose it the first time Gjendine. My brother traded me for his freedom, I had little to say in the matter.   
Do not get me wrong Gjendine.   
I am content.   
I have my children and I have gotten some good friends here.   
My sister and her family lives nearby and the scenery is breath-taking. I love the nature here, the vivid colours, even the roaring sea in a winter storm.   
I guess what I am trying to say Gjendine, is that I would have chosen this a second time if the choice were to be had. I would not have my children if I did not and children makes it all worth it Gjendine. It makes everything worthwhile.”

“And my brother?” 

Elizabeth grew silent and pensive, tired of pretending that the Jarl would come back at any given moment. Elizabeth was reconciled with her faith and the depth of her emotions that she had struggled so hard to repress when he was alive.   
It saddened her, that she had never admitted it to him when she had the chance. She believed in the afterlife and hoped that she would get the chance to rectify that when her time came. Preferably some time far into the future when Askr and Erik ruled Nidaros in unison.

“I loved him Gjendine, I did love him...”

“He will be back Elizabeth!”

“Perhaps...” 

Gjendine left Elizabeth at her favourite place on the estate, to reassure herself that Odin was very much alive and present. In the way, she preferred him to, by kissing her deeply.  
Elizabeth sat staring out over the waves, wondering if it were her husband’s grave...  
Her breast grew heavy, a sign that told her that the boys were probably hungry, she shook off her melancholy and continued with the task of feeding her children. 

***

Odin's family arrived a week before the scheduled ceremony, with them, came the joy of the occasion and the building of anticipation.   
Elizabeth’s mood lightened with the hectic activity and the blessing of little time for herself to ponder her fate.  
Between the twins, Embla, guests and wedding arrangements, it was not much time left to wallow in self-pity. Luckily, she had recovered her stamina after the birth and put it all to good use.

It helped immensely that Odin's kin were lovely people. His mother, in particular, was a warm and caring woman that was not opposed to chip in, wherever she was needed.   
Gudrun Ragnvaldsdottir worked tirelessly from dawn to dusk, with a pleasant smile and a kind word for everyone she met. People performed for her, just to please her.   
His father was jovial but considerably older than his wife.   
Odin’s only sibling Idunn was happy as fiddle and tough as a nail. Elizabeth took an instant liking to the girl that was about twelve years old. She reminded her a bit of herself at that age. More comfortable around boys and their boisterous games than the more sedate play amongst the girls. 

Elizabeth asked a Viking to hammer wooden sticks in the ground and the children competed with rings of iron that they threw towards the sticks, trying to make it land on one of the them.   
Elizabeth had long since accepted the Viking's fondness for games and play, her guests were thoroughly entertained.

Jane and Carl arrived as well. Jane could help but little as she was nearing her second confinement but she provided Elizabeth with company and her little Birk was a great favourite with Embla. Although he was only a couple of moons younger than her, she treated him as another little brother, of which he minded not at all.   
Elizabeth thought he must be the calmest child she had ever witnessed, a counterpart to the fussy babe he had been when he first arrived. A little angel with red hair that rivalled Embla’s fiery locks in vibrancy.

Elizabeth left her children in the capable hands of her sister and Idunn while tackling the daunting task of selecting the horse that would pay with his life for the celebration of her sister’s marriage.   
She stopped at the Jarl’s magnificent, black stallion. He was stomping uneasy but not because he was sensing the approach of his untimely death.   
He was an unruly wild beast who did not look kindly upon any other rider than his owner. Left with too little exercise as the only man that dared remove him from his box was the very occupied Thormod, he was bored, unsatisfied and of little use for Nidaros.   
Elizabeth eyed him wearily, he was the obvious choice but she could not get herself to do it.   
It was an admittance of her husband’s unlikelihood of returning, she was not yet ready to commit to.   
She chose an old, lame mare, leaving her without the essential part for Winter Blót but she would address that when the hour drew near. She chose a random goat and a sow, just happy to get it over with and headed back to the more pleasant tasks of playing with the children.

***

The first day of the wedding dawned with a promise of lovely weather from clear blue skies and a warm breeze wafting over the waves onto the land of Nidaros.   
Elizabeth lead the cleansing bath of the bride, with the Volva, Jane and Gudrun at her side. The beautiful wedding crown that Elizabeth had worn on her wedding had been polished, bright and shining. Gjendine’s maiden krans was put away in her jewellery chest, to give to her daughter when she was born.   
Elizabeth had come with only a ribbon for Embla and had asked Odin to make her a silver one when he first arrived at Nidaros. He had finished it the day before the wedding, in the nick of time before they set sail towards the south.  
Elizabeth was glad though that the ship the Jarl of Borre had arrived in, had shelter on board. It was little more than a triangle roof but it would give the ladies some protection against the weather.

The sacrifice was performed with Elizabeth as the natural priestess and housewife of Nidaros. The vows were exchanged and rings, armbands and swords had been gifted and received.   
It was time for the bride-running to commence and Elizabeth was not planning on losing and serve the guests the ale for the rest of the night...   
She was sprinting as fast as her long skirts would allow her when some cheater grabbed her arm and hauled her around. She had not heard him coming, for a grown man he moved stealthily like a wolf.  
Lips slammed down on hers and she felt her knees grow weak and obviously, her brain was addled as well because her assailant had lifted her off her feet and carried her many steps away before she even became aware of the fact. He continued over the courtyard, into the main house and up the stairs without leaving her lips unattended for a fraction of an instant.   
She fell on her back and was entered simultaneously, his tongue still battling with her own. It did not last long before he collapsed on top of her. He breathed deeply before raising himself up on his arms.

“I have missed you so Elizabeth!” He managed to voice before her palm connected forcefully with his cheek.

“What was that about?”

“For letting me believe you were dead for these past moons.” 

She lifted her hand to strike anew but he caught her wrist and secured it with the other, pinned over her head with a wide grin on his face. She noticed his wedding ring was missing which fuelled her anger.

“You missed me?”

“Do not be ridiculous, I have managed quite well in you absences...” She scanned the chiselled perfection of his torso and gasped at the angry red scare that crossed his chest diagonally. Distorting the wolf that looked even more sinister than before.

“What happened,” she whispered.

“It is nothing Elizabeth, it is healing well and that wound earned me chests of silver that I have brought home. Chests Elizabeth, as there are several...”

“But not once did you think of sending words to those who waited at home?”

“Of course I did. I sent a man from Audr's old farm, with my wedding ring so you would not question his authenticity. I left a message later as well but I found out a week ago that the ship was lost before it reached land. Did the messenger not reach you?”

“I have not had one word from you in these past eleven moons Fitzwilliam, not a word. What do you think my conclusion was, you fifl, you dunga, you veslingr.”

“Are you calling me an idiotic, useless, puny woman Elizabeth?”

“Yes!” 

His laughter boomed against the walls before he dived in for another searing kiss.

“I need to have you again Elizabeth if you can bear up with me. You are looking at a starving man.”

“Yes, you look like you have lost some weight.”

“Not that kind of hunger Elizabeth.” 

The Jarl scooted downwards, ripped her chemise in half and captured a nipple in his mouth as the most ridiculous expression transcended his countenance. He spat in his hand and looked bewildered at Elizabeth 

“What is this? What have you done Elizabeth or rather who have you...”

Another slap resounded across the room.

“Do not dare finish that sentence Fenrir Darcyson or I swear you will never lay your eyes on you sons, ever.”

“Sons? I have sons but how?”

“The usual way Fitzwilliam or have you forgot your last night at home. It turned out fruitful, I had twin sons during the Sun-moon.”

“Are you sure they are mine?” Elizabeth lost all strains on her anger and unleash it with all the hurt and despair that had settled in her soul from months of all uncertainty. 

Gjendine and her new family were waiting indecisively outside. At first, it had been awfully quiet, then raised voices could be heard before a roaring laughter had followed. It did not last long before another bout of angry voices could be heard though.  
“Perhaps we should break it off by bringing the children?” Gjendine suggested.

Elizabeth bit the Jarl in his chest and he released her hands to clutch his chest. Her dainty fists pounded him with a vengeance. Fenrir gathered the incensed woman in his lap.

“I am so sorry Elizabeth, I did not mean... Well, I did but I understand that I was wrong. Please do not cry or fight. I love you Elizabeth. You have no idea how much I have longed for you all this time...”

“Why then, did you not come home?” Elizabeth hiccupped.

“It is a long story Elizabeth.” 

Their discussion was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Fenrir just managed to get them both decent before a helmet of red, bouncy curls, entered the door and came running towards them. She froze for a moment before throwing herself around her father’s neck.

“Papa!” She cried and clung to him for dear life. Fenrir bowed his head and hid his face in his daughter’s curls, hiding a few tears while marvelling at his daughter instant recognition.

“She can talk.”

“Of course.” 

“And walk?”

“Yes.” Elizabeth sighed, he had missed so much.

Gjendine came through the door, carrying a fair-haired, blue-eyed baby boy. A man he did not know, followed with a dark-haired, blue-eyed baby boy. 

“Who are you?” Fenrir was not looking at his sons but the newcomer. 

“He is Gjendine’s husband, Odin Hakonson from Borre.”

“He is what?”

“He is Odin...” Elizabeth was rudely interrupted. 

“I heard you the first time. What made you think you could make such a decision without my consent?”

“The belief that you were most likely dead at the bottom of the sea,” Elizabeth replied drily.  
Fenrir stared into his wife’s eyes, seeing the despair that still lingered in her soul.

“I thought you knew...” He said dejectedly.

“I wish I had...”


	15. The Story

Chapter XV The Story

Elizabeth fed her children with her husband at her side. One boy at each breast.   
The Jarl devoured the sight of his new-born sons. There was no doubt in his mind that both blue-eyed boys were his, different as they were. It had been a shock though, coming home to a big brood of offspring. 

“Have you named them?”

“I have. The fair one is Askr, he is the firstborn. Erik is the dark-haired and he is the second born.”

“It does not matter who was first and second Elizabeth. They will share the reign of Nidaros when the time comes.”

“Oh, I did not know that.”

“Did you know that Erik was my grandfather’s name?”

“Yes, I surmised that from your father’s name. I was unsure if you wanted to name your son after your father because of your history with him, so I chose the name of your grandfather...”

“You did well Elizabeth.”

Fed and satisfied, the boys were left with their thrall and the master and mistress of Nidaros, joined the wedding celebration in the long-house. 

The big hall was filled to the brim, with all the warriors of Nidaros at home. They made a merry lot who had come home with their chests full of silver and gold. 

It went deathly quiet as the master and mistress entered the hall. They took their high-back chairs at the head of the table and the Jarl raised his drinking-horn and toasted his wife for the gift of two healthy sons.   
The homecoming warriors cheered, laughed and jested about the virility of the Jarl which he accepted with good humour.  
The homestayers were eager for the tale of their journey north and the Jarl obliged them.

***

The homestead of Audr had not put up a fight. The inhabitants were more relieved than sorry that their tyrannical father was lost and the remaining sons were eager to make peace with the Jarl.

At Gyda’s homestead, they were not as eager but neither had they any men left to fight. Instead, they had negotiated a truce that had been profitable for both.   
Taking all the ships at hand to go further north and hunt for the narwhale and walrus. The meat was used as food for the men and traded for drink and the teeth were sold in Anglo-Saxon.   
A golden opportunity had come up for an expedition to a convent when they had travelled south, trading meat for ale and other goods before crossing the big ocean.   
Eunuchs had been captured and sold to the far east by the detour of Venice. The demand for trusted guards in the caliph's harem was huge while others were sent to Byzantium.   
The literate boys were in high demand and were valued accordingly.

With the silver and gold they had raided, the price for the eunuchs, unicorn horns and the walrus teeth, they returned with unfathomable wealth.   
Their last stop on the journey home had been at Gaular, to pay the king their taxes. Harald Hairfair had been very pleased with his Jarl and named him the highest-ranking Jarl of the kingdom of Norway, as a reward for his contribution to the king's wealth.   
The king had been particularly amused by the fact that some of his taxes came from the vault of his Anglo-Saxon enemy, Alfred the Great.   
The Jarl, with his connection with his uncle the Earl of Matlock, had easy access to the monarch. 

The king and his Danish queen had thrown a Gildi and they could not gainsay their king when he offered to hold one in their honour.   
The King had grave information to share, especially for the inhabitants of Lade. As it turned out, Caroline had left with the last Berserker albeit voluntarily. They had formed a new group with the Valkyrie Caroline as their leader and King Harald had employed them in his battle against the Danish chieftain Tore Haklang. The Berserkers were the only ones who would volunteer to form the front of the battalion and none of them had survived...

The Gildi had lasted an entire week and they had needed a day or two to sober up before venturing out on the big waves. 

Elizabeth was pensive after her husband’s revaluations. She could not find any redeeming circumstances for his absences. He had gone to gather more wealth which they had aplenty, in her mind.

“You left for close to a year to get richer?”

“You married off my sister, I say we are even.” The Jarl had his eyes fixed on the opposite end of the table where his sister was sitting in her husband’s lap while the onlookers cheered, “kissyr hana.” His eyes were black and between them, a deep frown had developed. 

Elizabeth put both hands on his face and forced him to look at her.

“They are not doing anything we did not do on our wedding day.”

“But she is so young.”

“She is the same age as I was when I married you...”

The Jarl groaned. “We have to follow them to the bride-couch...”

“Yes, we do.”

“I will order everybody out as soon as they have been put to bed.”

“That would be wise.”

“Was it as horrible for you as it was for me?”

“Yes, Fenrir. That it was...”

The Jarl hauled his wife to his lap.

“Distract me Elizabeth, I cannot bear the thought.” And she did, kissing him lazily until she surprised him by tugging on his long queue to gain access to his neck.

“You cannot manhandle me like that in front of my warriors Elizabeth, they might believe I am a henpecked husband with a Valkyrie for wife.” Elizabeth chuckled and tightened her grip on his queue. Straddled his lap an looked him straight in the eyes.

“You are so afraid of losing your manhood that I thought you needed to eat a little humble pie. You may even like it...” She leaned closer and whispered into his ear. “Or I might be punishing you for your extended absence from your wife. Take your pick, either would be fine by me.” Her hand had travelled up his shirt, unnoticed and she pinched his nipple as hard as she could. The Jarl grinned back at her.

“You recognise that there will be hell to pay for your sauciness. Your kind of hell... I promise you that by the time I have finished with you, you will be burning...” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

“I distracted you, by your own demand. It looks like I am just following the Jarl’s orders.”

Elizabeth slipped off his lap, into her own chair and sipped daintily at her goblet of wine while leaving the Jarl to take in the kissing and cuddling at the opposite side of the table.

“What say you, to get the two newlyweds off to the bride-couch?” 

“I say it is a little early...” The Jarl groaned and Elizabeth was back on his lap the next instant with the Jarl’s head buried in her neck.

“It is a wonder your father did not hit me in the head with a hammer at our wedding. We might have to hold a Blót to celebrate that.” 

“Yes, we should.”

The Jarl had to endure several more hours of kissyr hana at the other end of the table. The morrow was dawning by the time the bride and groom rose to retire. 

The Jarl and his wife partook in the procession that followed the bride and the groom to the bride-couch.   
True to his words, the couple had just slipped under the cowers when a stern Jarl, ordered everybody out and slammed the door so the bolt on the inside fell in to place.  
Outside the door, he gathered his wife into his arms and held her close.

“That was the most difficult thing I have ever had to do!” Elizabeth stroked his back to comfort him.

“I have not forgotten my promise to you Elizabeth, time to pay...”

Elizabeth was lifted and thrown over his shoulder as he strides towards the hay-loft.

“Where are you taking me? What’s wrong with our chamber?”

“To close to the children. The way you are going to howl at the moon tonight Elizabeth would wake the dead and we do not want the draugr nor the children, witnessing your downfall.”

“Why the hay-loft?” Elizabeth asked as she landed in the soft but prickly hay.

“Soft bedding and sturdy ropes my dear. I am tender-headed remember? I do not want those talons of yours in my hair when I bring you to your rapture.”

“I thought you were bringing me to Hel?”

“Your saucy speeches will end with the first flick of my tongue.” The Jarl promised as he tied Elizabeth’s hands to the wall behind her. Elizabeth had to admit he was right as the sounds she emitted from then on, could hardly be described as words. She was quite certain that there had been no howling though and that she had given as good as she had gotten, in the end...

It was an embarrassed and oddly walking couple that emerged from the hay-loft the next day. The sun stood high in the sky when Elizabeth hastened to her twin's side. The thrall girl had fed them in the morning but was rather relieved to see Elizabeth at their noon meal.   
A crimson Elizabeth took Askr as the thrall fed Erik. Askr had been a little smaller than his brother when they were born so Elizabeth was particularly anxious to see him grow and reach his brother’s rotund form and Elizabeth’s breasts were overflowing.   
Fed and content, she took a boy in each arm who were growing heavier by the day and went outside to show the returning warriors that the future of Nidaros was secured.  
The battle-worn men showed a soft side and were rather adorable, cooing over the boys. The older ones who had been there when Darcy Erikson ruled, were adamant that Askr was the spitting image of his grandfather as they were sure that Erik would grow up as duplicate of his father.   
Elizabeth was feeling rather proud of herself until one of the warriors suggested to sacrifice one of them at the next Blót as they had a spare. It earned him a smack on the head and the babe ripped out of his arms by an infuriated Elizabeth. 

“Do not worry Elizabeth, it is not the way at Nidaros. Maidens bring more fortune...” Her husband enlightened her while grabbing Erik to carry himself. 

“Embla?”

“Of course not. What preposterous thought, we have not done human sacrifice her for decades. I know some still do it but not in this parts of the country.” Elizabeth let out a deep sigh.

“That is a relief, I suppose...” 

The festivities continued during the day and another lavish feast were held in the evening. The newlyweds seemed deliriously happy, lost to their surroundings as they gazed into each other’s eyes in quiet conversation.   
The Jarl filled his horn to the brim and grabbed his wife’s hand.

“Come!” He lead her out of the longhouse and to the altar where he poured the content of his horn over the stones and let it drizzle down to the ground, foaming as it went.

“I thought we were going to drink that... ”

“No, I believe we had enough drink last night Elizabeth... I hope I did not force myself on you nor injure you in any way?” The Jarl had a contrite look around his eyes.

“No, you did not. If I had been displeased in any way, you would not have needed to ask. Of that, you can be quite certain and I agree we did consume a little too much of the liquids last night but why pour it over the alter now?”

“To thank Freyja, the goddess of love and fertility and pray for her to accept me into Folkvang, not Valhall when my times come.”

“Why would you not wish to go to Valhall with your fellow warriors? I believe it holds a former favourite of yours, Caroline would be there... Why would you want to go to Folkvang instead?”

“Because Valhall is reserved for warriors while Freyja admits both warriors and high ranking females. I want us to be together in our afterlife.” 

The Jarl continued walking with a firm grip on Elizabeth’s hand. At the edge of the bluff, he sat down and pulled Elizabeth to his lap, her back against his chests. The sun was setting over the lazy waves with reds and orange, spilling into the fjord. He pulled the pins out of her hair and let it flow down her back before nuzzling his face in her neck.

“It is so good to be back home, I missed you so much Elizabeth, you have no idea...”

“I do not understand. If you missed me so much, why did you not come home sooner? Why did you feel the need to acquire more wealth when we have more than enough to live on as it is?”

“Yes we do Elizabeth but my men has not... I will start with the beginning so you will understand completely...

I had to revenge the attack on you and Nidaros.   
It is not the first battle that Harald Ivarson and Leif Sturluson have instigated. They were notorious troublemakers and I have sacrificed much to gain peace in our county, I had to do all that I could to settle it, once and for all.   
The misery that battle inflicts, not only on the warriors but their families as well, must be prevented at all costs.   
Which is why I yielded and accepted Gyda and Audr as my frilles, to gain a connection with these men that hopefully would prevent any attacks. In addition, I thought that Gjendine would like some company at her own age.   
I failed miserably as I noticed what the effects of having them around, inflicted on you Elizabeth. By preventing conflict in one end, I had created another in my own home.  
I knew you hurt although I paid them little notice and I could not stand for it.   
I was aware that I was putting us in a precarious position when I gave Gyda permission to wed a man that she liked but her father would not see it that way.   
I asked Thormod to wed Audr with the inducement of a farm of his own but I had studied them and thought that they would rub well together and I believe I was right. When the attack came, cowardly while I was away.   
I knew the time had come to put an end to it.   
If I had portrayed a weak leader, others would soon follow and attack us from all side. I had to make them and everyone else, certain of my strength and my willingness to fight.   
The debacle went down as smoothly as it could, with no loss on either side.   
It took negotiations though and we agreed to join our ships to hunt for the narwhale and walrus to enhance not our riches Elizabeth but of those who had lost so many of their men.   
The boys of Leif Sturluson were young and untrained. They had not much option but to earn their keep and we have never had so many ships to the endeavour as we had on this expedition.   
It was not only Leif’s boys that benefited though.   
Many of my warriors, gained the means to provide better for their families. They can buy land and build a farm of their own before they are too old to work the land. Providing a better life for their children. 

I had to go to the Anglo-Saxons because they could never have accessed the king without my connections and they would not have been able to sell their goods. I would have stopped at Nidaros to see you if had had the opportunity Elizabeth, I would...

It was winter and the ice was coming dangerously close to us on a couple of occasions. We could not delay for a day in those conditions. No matter how much I longed to do just that, I could not in good conscience, jeopardize the life of so many men Elizabeth, I could not...

On the way to the Anglo-Saxons, we stopped at Wexford and the old Norse settlers had about two-hundred young, literate boys for us that they had gathered and we took them with us but that meant we had to sail to Venice when we were finished with King Alfred.   
There are no ice in those part of the sea so the journey was safe enough and we sold the boys and went home.” 

“You sold them? As thralls?”

“No, they were literate boys and highly sought after as teachers, guards for the caliph’s harem and even as politicians.”

“Why would the caliph want them as their guards?” The Jarl coughed, uncomfortable with his next revelation.

“They were castrated before they left Venice...”

“How absolutely dreadful!”

“Yes, in some ways it is but the boys would live in a luxury that they could never have accomplished in their homeland.”

“But they will never be father’s, that is a steep price to pay for luxury...” Elizabeth whispered.

“Yes, it is...”

The couple went silent and watched the last rays of sunlight, disappear into the ocean. It was getting colder, a reminder that winter was approaching, if not immediately at their doorstep.   
Fenrir wrapped his wife in his thicker coat and enfolded her legs within his.

“I love you Elizabeth.”

“I love you Fitzwilliam.”


	16. Epilogue

Epilogue 

Three years would pass from the twins was born until Elizabeth bore the Jarl another child.  
Another boy saw the light of day and they named him Thormod as the giant had passed in a brawl, on Irish soil, with the Danes.   
He sported the same red hair as his namesake and his older sister.   
He was followed by two girls with a couple of years in between.   
Solveig, fair as her aunt, with a sunny disposition and Ingvild, a dark-haired quiet beauty.

Those were the children that lived until adulthood but there were others that were not so fortunate. The Jarl and his wife buried three of their children...

The Volva stayed with them for the rest of her days. She was knowledgeable with herbs and Elizabeth learned a lot of her healing abilities from her but further, than that, she was sceptical to her trans like performances but heeded her stellar intuition. 

Jane and Carl lived prosperous lives and Carl never went on another expedition. They had a girl after Birk and that was to be the last of their offspring. 

Gjendine accompanied Odin on his sojourn to the far east. After three years they headed back to Norwegian soil to welcome their one and only child, a son, four months later. 

One would think that Caroline Bragesdottir had gotten off lightly by ending her days in Valhall, wining and dining for all eternity. Unfortunately for her, she had not died instantly on the battlefield but had succumbed to a fever a few days later. She spent her afterlife in illness and starvation with Hel the goddess of death. Hel's north faced castle was filled with venom of the serpent while the dragon Nilhogg sucked the blood from the inhabitant's bodies.

Elizabeth ventured back to her homestead of Longbourn once.   
Her father and mother had passed but her brother had married Charlotte as a penance for the sins he had committed and the fate he had inflicted upon his sisters.   
It was not a love match as Elizabeth had thought but a marriage of convenience.   
The childless pair let Lydia and the eldest of her multiple offspring inherit Longbourn when their time came.   
Mary never married and Kitty succumbed to the same fever that took her parents before she had the chance to marry.   
Lydia’s son took the Bennet name and the farm would prosper for many years to come, perhaps even as long as Pemberley. 

When William the conqueror came to England, his Norwegian ancestry was little known and even less spoken about.   
William was the great-great-great-grandson of Rollo, the first Duke of Normandy or Rolf as he was called in Norse. He later earned the appendage of Gaange Rolf, gaange meaning walking. It was an ironic nickname as Rollo grew too heavy for his horse to carry him. Rollo was the younger brother of Darcy Erikson and Fenrir Darcyson’s uncle. 

Descendants of William the Conqueror settled in Derbyshire under the name D’Arcy were history would repeat itself by another pair of Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam, centuries hence...

Thank you for reading!

Explanations

The Viking era stretches from 793 to 1066.  
Although the Vikings first attacked Portland in 789, the Danes raid of the convent Lindisfarne is more commonly known and symbolise the beginning of the Viking era.   
It ended with the battle on Stanford bridge by Harald Hardrade in 1066, where he lost the battle of England.  
In the years in between, the Vikings were known for raiding, raping and their fierce warriors. An apt description in many ways but the Vikings were also farmers, fishermen, traders and craftsmen. Recent genetic research in the areas where the Vikings travelled suggest that rape were not as common as the tales tell. They find little genes from Vikings which they would have expected.  
I have not tried to romanticize the era in this book but to give a truthful rendition of what their lives might have been. I have chosen to omit or tone down a few traits like human sacrifices. Not all Vikings were as barbaric as the Berserkers and I have made my Darcy Viking more of a tradesman than warrior on purpose.   
Unfortunately, there are very little written down from the era apart from the sagas which was written down after Norway was christened and contains little of everyday life. What we do know, was that the Viking's valued cleanliness and the archaeological finds of combs, toothpicks, tweezers and ear spoons underlines that. It is believed that they were, in fact, the cleanest of the medieval people, bathing every Saturday. Although childbirth was risky business, less Viking women died of childbed fever compared to the women in Regency England.  
They had strange traditions, double-standards especially in terms of their sexuality, their Gods demanded little of them in form morality or ethics. They were stories to be told and were asked for help but demanded only blót in return. They did not even have a word for religion but called it customs. 

Coming home with an English bride, “won" in warfare and otherwise attained were not uncommon in the Viking era. Sigurd the Crusader was the illegitimate son of Magnus Barefoot by an English lady. He ruled with his two illegitimate brothers until they both had died and he gained the throne by himself.

Female Selective Infanticide is one of the most grotesque traditions of the Vikings. There are theories that the Vikings, because of the lack of females this tradition brought, went on expeditions as much to find females as they did raiding and loitering. 

The thralls was the Nordic form of slavery. It was perceived as a status symbol to own slaves, they had no rights and were regarded as property of their owner. The thralls were also sexually abused, both the male and the females. The slavery was abolished in the thirteenth century in Norway.

I am picturing this story in the late eight-hundreds when Alfred the Great ruled in the Anglo-Saxons and Harald Hairfair ruled in Norway.   
Language-wise I could not write the story in the English language of the era, although I could have written it in Norse but it would have served no purpose. I have tried to avoid the most modern words but I might not have been entirely successful. 

*Jarl, the highest noble title in medieval Norway, from the twelve-hundreds the title was changed to Duke. The king appointed the Jarl and he was to provide the king with at least 60 warriors. Under the Jarl were the Herses, four men that had to provide another twenty warriors each.  
*Harald Hairfair was the king of Norway from 872 ad to 930 ad. He is known to have gathered Norway into one kingdom. If that really meant the entire Norway is less certain but it is safe to say that he ruled over major parts.  
*Bruđ-hlaup, bride-running has developed into the modern word for weddings in Norway, which are called bryllup today. The running is no longer a tradition though.  
*Bride Bang: It was tradition to slam the doors tree times but no one knows why...  
*Thviet and Kunta were names for the female genital.  
*Munuth: means love-thought and was a word used to describe desire.  
*Blót: Sacrificial offerings to the various gods in Norse mythology.  
*Skerry/skerries, Scottish word for an islet with sharp rocks that originates from Norse.  
*Holm, a small island, often close to land.  
* The wolf: Vikings were fond of taming wildlife as pets, most usual were the brown bear.  
*The Vikings had a binary sexuality with a lot of contradicting rules. They abused the male thralls as sign of their submission that can be described as nothing less than rape today. The Vikings were never the passive participant as that would make them an outcast and deprive them of their manliness nor could any man gain pleasure from being penetrated. It was not a problem to gain pleasure from penetrating though. It was not looked upon as a sexual act but an act of power and submission. The Vikings were homophobic, homophile practitioners.   
*Runer is the letters that the Vikings used.  
*Volva (wand-wed) were a wise woman, healer and priestess that could travel around alone in the Viking era with no worries of being assaulted as the Vikings cultivated them. The Volva chose whom she spoke to and whom she did not speak to. Even the master and mistress cowed for the Volva. Gravesites of Volvas have showed that they could possess great wealth and that they used white lead and henbane seeds to reach psychedelic heights. They carried a decorated wand and performed magic. She was what could be described as a shaman or a witch today. She could speak to spirits, enter animals and leave her own body. Male Volvas did exist but they were rare and looked down upon.  
*Nagflar, the ship that giants called Jotuun's built by the nails of the dead, to sail to Aasgard and end the world in Ragnarok.  
*Draugr, the Viking form of Zombie or a ghost.

Description of the blood eagle further down the page, read it if you can stomach grotesque torture.

The blood eagle (copied fro. Ranker.com)  
First, the victim was restrained face down, then the shape of an eagle with outstretched wings would be cut into his back.  
After that, his ribs would be hacked from his spine with an axe, one by one, and the bones and skin on both sides pulled outward to create a pair of “wings” from the man’s back. If everything went to plan the victim would still be alive at this point to experience the agony of having salt rubbed into his vast wounds.  
After that, his exposed lungs would be pulled out of his body and spread over his “wings,” offering witnesses the sight of a final bird-like “fluttering” as he died...


End file.
